Memories and Battle Scars
by Kaida the Dragon Goddess
Summary: Trying to get close to Seto Kaiba is about as safe as provoking a dragon. Katsuya Jonouchi is up to the challenge, but Seto isn't quite ready to let go of his anger...rated for YAOI, people. Noncon LEMONS.
1. We Wish you a Merry Christmas

I own Yuu-gi-oh! laughs as she is dragged to Copyright Prison by heavily armed guards

Chapter One: We Wish you a Merry Christmas...

"You're fucking kidding." Kaiba Seto glared at the crowd gathered on his doorstep. He wasn't in the best of moods, having been aroused from sleep by the irritating jangle of the doorbell, and bothering a pissed-off Kaiba was about as safe as kicking a sleeping wolf. A sleeping, fire-breathing wolf with rabies. And three heads.

"Language, Kaiba," Yami trilled in a sugar-induced imitation of his hikari. He tried to push past Kaiba, but the CEO blocked the doorway with his body.

"Get off my property." Yuugi, Yami, Malik, Marik, Honda, Otogi, Jonouchi, Ryou and a very angry-looking Bakura were all grinning stupidly at him. Well, except Bakura. He was glaring and occasionally sneaking glances at Kaiba's bare chest.

"Da whole city's ya property." Jonouchi rubbed his arms and stamped his feet in an attempt to warm himself up.

"Be that as it may, mutt, I want all of you out of my sight in the next ten minutes, or I'm calling security."

"What security?" Honda said innocently. "Don't tell me you make your staff work on Christmas?"

"Believe me, I'm considering it," Seto growled. He was starting to get cold, probably because he was wearing only his pajamas, which consisted of blue silk pants. His chest and feet were bare, and he was freezing. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Well, we figured it'd be awfully lonely here, what with Mokuba at boarding school and all, so we figured we'd—"Yuugi began.

"If the next words have anything to do with bringing me Christmas cheer, I'm going back to sleep."

"Nah," Jonouchi said, hefting a rather large bag in one hand. "Presents!"

"And alcohol," Honda added.

"Look, either let us in or tell us to go away, because I know you're cold, and I really don't want to keep freezing out here." Otogi put his hands on his hips in his typical drama-queen pose. You'd think he'd be warm in all that fur and leather, but Otogi never passed up a chance to complain.

"Go away," Seto said, with little conviction, stepping aside and letting them by. Gifts? For him? Were they insane?

He thought guiltily of the stash of boxes hidden under his bed, boxes that Mokuba had shoved at him.

"You give them to the person whose name is on the label," his little brother had snapped, sick of Seto's antisocial attitude. "It's really very simple."

"Mokuba's home for the holidays, you know," Seto said, trailing after them. "I wasn't going to be alone."

He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. Alone? What was he supposed to care if he was alone? For that matter, what were they supposed to care?

"I mean, not that I wanted company—" And that sounded even worse, like he was trying to cover up for something.

"Yeah, yeah," Jonouchi drawled, smirking at him. "We all know what a big softy ya are, Kaiba."

"Shut up, mutt."

"Ooh, creative."

Seto glowered. His normally witty comebacks seemed to have abandoned him in his time of need.

"Hey, what's—um, Seto, do we have company?" Mokuba was standing on the balcony of the second floor.

"Yes, we—Mokuba! Put some clothes on!" Seto had turned to glance up at his brother, and immediately regretted it.

"These are clothes," Mokuba said, tugging at the waistband of his black boxers.

"I meant a shirt," Seto snapped. "And some pants, if you think you can handle that."

"You're not wearing a shirt," Mokuba pointed out.

"That's because I was planning on hosting a party in my pajamas!" Seto snarled sarcastically.

"Fine, fine," Mokuba said, disappearing into his bedroom.

Jou whistled approvingly. "Ya brother sure has grown up, eh, Kaiba?"

Seto's glare could have melted steel. "Don't even think about it, mutt."

It was true that Mokuba, now eighteen, was considerably more attractive than he had been as a kid. He'd cut his hair so that it barely brushed tanned shoulders, and a few well-placed tattoos accented his fine bone and muscle structure. Seto just wished that he'd wear something other than black, and decide what his sexual preference was. It was getting awkward going to wake Mokuba up in the morning and never knowing what gender to expect in his bed.

Seto at twenty-three didn't really look all that different. Still tall, handsome and forbidding, his icy eyes had only gotten sharper over the last seven years. He was a ruthless businessman, and Kaiba Corp had nearly doubled in size over the last years. Seto was one of the wealthiest men in Japan, and he knew it. His living room alone could have easily housed a family of four, although only he (and Mokuba, during break) and the servants lived in the manor.

Yuugi hadn't grown much taller, to his dismay, and still could have passed for an eighteen-year old. He'd added a bit of muscle tone, thankfully, so he managed to be slightly more threatening than he had at sixteen. His eyes still glimmered with honesty, which Seto personally found a bit revolting, but they'd gained an awareness, a fierceness at times, that clearly stated that he was not as naïve as he looked. After hearing of Yuugi's success in Battle City, people had flocked to the Kame Game Shop, and the Mutous had opened a massive megastore with every kind of game possible. Yuugi's grandfather had died when Yuugi was twenty, leaving the game shop (shops; by that point, Kame had become a chain) to Yuugi, who proved himself to be quite good at running a business. Seto wasn't worried about competition; he'd bought out Industrial Illusions and thus currently owned Duel Monsters, so the Mutous would always be one of his biggest customers.

Ryou looked nearly the same as he always had. Small, slight and pale, he was taller than Yuugi by a few inches, but much more delicate-looking. Fortunately someone had introduced him to the concept of a mall, and he'd given up his collared-shirt-and-sweater style. Instead he wore a fitted green turtleneck and jeans. The incredible thing was that Ryou, although he'd done more than a few modeling jobs, had absolutely no idea how adorable he was. He'd taken up writing recently, and rumour had it that he was working on a manga based on Ancient Egypt. It wasn't really a surprise to anyone that knew him. Ryou had always been a wonderful artist, and he did, after all, have an accurate source of information on Egypt. A source which was standing next to him with a protective arm wrapped around his waist.

Otogi was nearly as tall as Seto, and the number of ear piercings had only multiplied over the years. A silver stud even glimmered in his left eyebrow. Frankly, Otogi's clothes scared Seto. Leather, fur, glitter—nothing was too strange for him. He'd even taken to occasionally wearing skirts, which Seto took to mean either than he was very secure, or having an identity crisis. Take today for example—black leather pants, short red shirt that ended well above his navel, black leather jacket trimmed in red fur, and chunky boots covered in buckles. He looked like he belonged in a whorehouse, not in the Kaiba Mansion. But, Seto supposed, so was the curse of an actor. Otogi turned out to be rather good, and had even managed to land the lead of an upcoming movie, which, Jou never failed to point out, was about a drag queen.

And Honda? Well, he'd grown his hair out, thankfully, and gotten rid of that weird half-mohawk. He was about the same height as Otogi, although his shoulders were much more broad and his body wasn't as petite as the actor's. He'd taken up professional biking, and he was currently one of Kitsune Motorcross's best riders. He wore a Kitsune jacket with his name emblazoned on the back, which was partially why it had taken them so long to walk to Kaiba's manor; people kept stopping them for autographs. And Ryou's home phone number, but most of the girls had given up when Bakura made it quite clear that Ryou was HIS, thank you very much. A few of them had run screaming.

Malik (and thus Marik) had followed Isis's footsteps and had become an archaeologist. A rather famous one, as it turned out. Yami had been quite a help in locating long-forgotten tombs. Malik had mercifully abandoned his short purple shirt and khakis, preferring instead a much more comfortable jeans-and T-shirt-type style. Seto wondered if he'd cut his hair at all in the last seven years, since the braid that wound down his back was considerably long. Of course, the jewelry and the eye tattoos remained, since Malik claimed they were a part of his heritage, like it or not.

The yamis, of course, looked no different, save their clothes. After five thousand years, they weren't going to grow any, and besides, they could change their appearance if they really wanted to. Bakura, for instance, had decided that his eye colour should be blue, rather than Ryou's chocolate brown, and that he wanted streaks of black in his white hair. He was much more tan than Ryou and taller, more angled, the end result being that he didn't look quite so much like his hikari. Considering their relationship, Seto supposed that it was rather disturbing to have a boyfriend who looked exactly like you. Yuugi and Yami didn't really have that problem, nor did Malik and Marik. The yamis had never looked much like their hikaris, save for hair colour and skin tone.

And then there was Jou. Seto had been deliberately leaving him for last. Jou hadn't changed a bit, he was still the same tough-talking, ass-kicking little bastard he'd always been, but it seemed that people liked that. He got along well with nearly everyone, which was why he managed the Kame Game Shop. Yuugi had made him a partner a year after the young Motou had gained control of what was quickly becoming known as the "Kame Empire." Apparently the two were quite good at running a business together. Jou was working his way through college, and seemed happy, although Seto was sure that it was hard to maintain an apartment while trying to pay tuition and support a dying father. Jou's father had developed lung cancer a few years back, and the boy was on his own from then on out, working to pay medical bills and so forth. He remained cheerful, if somewhat idiotic. It took a lot to get him down, and even more to keep him there.

Jou had grown. He was only a few inches shorter than Seto, and his ragged blonde hair was constantly flopping in his eyes. As a result, Jounouchi had developed a stunning way of flipping his hair back so casually that it seemed he was posing without even knowing it. Paired with that easy crooked grin, lean muscular body and smiling honey eyes, he could inadvertantly stir the blood of nearly everyone he was around. Unfortunately, 'everyone' included Seto. The eldest Kaiba deliberately avoided looking at him.

"I—I'm going to go put some clothes on," he said, aware of the stammer in his voice. This was absurd. Kaibas don't stutter.

Mokuba fairly bounced down the stairs, and Seto was relieved to see that he was by himself. Thankfully, it appeared he'd spent the night alone, which meant no awkward encounters with a half-dressed man or woman on the way to Seto's room. Of course, it seemed that lately there had been more guys than girls hanging around, though Seto didn't really want to analyze this fact.

He met Mokuba at the landing. "You didn't invite them, did you?"

Mokuba gave him an innocent, wide-eyed look, which clashed oddly with his tattoos and eyeliner. "Would I do that?"

"Yes," Seto snapped.

"Well, if you're going to be so bitchy about it! Lighten up, Seto, it's Christmas."

"You planned this, didn't you? That's why you gave me all those gifts for them."

"Of course I did. It would be so rude of you to not have anything for them after they went to all this trouble ... "

"Mokuba ... " Seto warned.

"Hey, are you going to ask Jou out?"

The lecture Seto had been about to give died on his lips. "Hunh?"

"Are you going to ask him out?"

"You ... how did you ... why?"

"Oh, please, you're so lovesick it's not even funny."

"I. Am not. Lovesick," Seto said through clenched teeth.

"Is that a no, then?" Mokuba asked.

"Why does it matter?"

"Because if you're not, then I will."

"You're kidding."

"Nope. You've had your chance, Seto. He's hot." Mokuba grinned and licked his lips in a rather suggestive manner, a manner that he knew nauseated onii-chan to no end.

"Mokuba!"

"What? He is."

"You are not dating the mutt."

"You mean your mutt?"

Seto glared at his brother. "I remember when you respected me," he snapped.

"Payback's a bitch, ain't it?"

"Mokuba, shut the fuck up and go downstairs."

"Yes, nii-san," Mokuba said sarcastically.

"And don't call me that. I'm not a car company." (A/N: Nii-san ... Nissan ... come on, I'm not the only one who noticed that!) Seto whirled and stalked down the hallway.

"Seto, just tell him how you feel," Mokuba said, all harshness in his voice gone. He'd just wanted to rile Seto up enough that he might actually make a move. "What's the worst that can happen?"

Seto froze. "He could reject me."

"You? Come on, you've got everything. Looks, money, a really nice ass—"

Seto turned and gave his brother a bewildered and somewhat disturbed look.

"Okay, so I'm guessing about the last part. Your personality could use a bit of work, but—"

"I like my personality," Seto said stubbornly, all too aware of how childish he sounded.

Mokuba sighed. "Look, the worst he can do is say no. At least you'll know, right? No more guessing. There's plenty more fish in the sea."

"And you've slept with most of them," Seto said, trying to lighten the mood in his own sarcastic way.

"There ya go," Mokuba grinned, completely missing (or ignoring) the insult. "You should smile more."

"Oi! Mokuba! Wha's a guy have ta do ta get some food 'round here?"

"I can think of several things offhand," Mokuba called to Jou. "I doubt they'd be very pleasant for you!" Turning back to Seto, he said, "Get dressed, get their gifts, and make sure Jou doesn't open his until the end."

Seto nodded, slightly confused, as Mokuba took off down the stairs.

Once in his room, he collapsed on his bed and buried his face in the white silk pillows. He'd as much as admitted to Mokuba that he like Jounouchi. He was surprised at how easy it had been, since he'd never really admitted it to himself.

He rolled over, staring up at the constellations painted on his ceiling. His eyes flicked immediately to Sirius Major. The Dog Star.

No. He had to stop thinking about Jounouchi. Had to. He was Kaiba Seto, he wasn't supposed to fall in love with a mutt like that.

Wait, love? Who had said anything about love? Sure, Jou was cute and sexy as hell, but love?

Seto pulled on a black T-shirt that fit his broad shoulders nicely, and ran his hands through his hair. Since when did he care about appearences? Surely he wasn't grooming himself for Jou? Yet he found himself turning and twisting in an attempt to see himself from every angle and wondering if he was attractive. He barely managed to make it down the stairs carrying the multitude of boxes.

"Seto! Jus' in time!" Jou was opening a wine bottle with what looked like a pocketknife. Seto stopped dead when he saw what Jou was wearing.

The removal of his olive-green trenchcoat had revealed a baggy emerald dress shirt that looked like silk and black leather pants that he probably borrowed from Yami. The dress shirt was unbuttoned halfway down his chest, displaying quite a lot of skin.

"Mutt, it's ten in the morning. At least wait until tonight to break out the alcohol." Seto managed to keep his voice even, and tried to slow his heartbeat down. He deposited the boxes on the counter, busying himself so he could avoid looking at Jonouchi.

"Tonight?" Yami echoed slyly. "You two have an appointment I didn't know about?"

"And since when do you call him 'Seto?'" Honda asked with a grin.

"I call him dat 'cause dat's his name, ya moron," Jounouchi snapped in that adorable Brooklyn accent.

"And I suppose that was my brother's way of inviting you all to stay the night." Mokuba gave his brother a pointed Look. "Right, Seto?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Seto said, shrugging and trying to look as if he didn't care. A night? With Jou?

Seto firmly cut off that train of thought before it went any further.

"Geez, don't sound so thrilled," Jou said, arching an eyebrow at the flustered CEO.

"I can't stay," Honda said. "Anzu's plane comes in this afternoon, and I want to be there to pick her up."

Jou grinned at his friend. "Sure ya do, buddy."

Honda blushed. He and Anzu were trying to pull off a long-distance relationship, since the girl was currently attending Juliard in America for ballet. She was going to come back to Japan to see her friends, and then fly back to New York in time for term to start.

"What about the rest of you?" Seto snapped in a tone he hadn't intended to be harsh. He flopped down in a chair, glowering at them, completely unaware of how frightening he looked.

"Uh ... um ... " Yuugi stuttered, glancing at Yami nervously.

"Seto," Mokuba said stiffly, "Smile. You're scaring them."

Seto gave a pathetic sort of smile. "Sorry," he said, trying to keep a rein on the attitude in his voice. "I'm not used to human contact."

"Never woulda guessed," Jou said. Seto almost shot him a withering glare, but he caught Mokuba's eye and stopped himself just in time.

"You want him, start being nice," Mokuba hissed at his brother, who blushed somewhat, praying that no one had heard.

"So, Kaiba," Malik said, looking around. "You're not real into the holidays, are you?"

Seto shrugged. "You should see the dining room," he said. "That was the only room we ever decorated for Christmas, and I guess I just kept up the tradition even after Gozaborou was gone."

An awkward silence followed. No one ever knew quite what to say when conversation turned to Seto's abusive stepfather. Granted, Seto himself didn't really care. He'd paid the best psychiatrists in the world for at least five years of therapy; he was over it. Heavily medicated for a year and a half, but over it.

Mokuba, on the other hand ...

"So, who wants to play Truth or Dare?" Mokuba said a little too brightly, seating himself on a plush couch next to Otogi, who gave the boy an approving sidelong look.

"Ooh," Yuugi said eagerly, glancing up at Yami. "Can we?"

"Whatever you like, aibou," Yami said, nuzzling his hikari's neck.

They eventually settled into an amoeba-like circle with Seto on the very outskirts. The elder Kaiba noted with some embarrassment that Jonouchi had seated himself next to his chair. It would be a simple matter to reach out and touch that sun-kissed hair—

Kaiba mentally shook himself. No thoughts like that. Not now.

"Ryou, you go first," Mokuba said.

"Oh, um—"Ryou stammered, glancing around the circle. Seto watched with interest; he'd never played this game before. He had the distinct impression that he'd missed out on a lot of childhood experiences. "Okay, Yuugi," Ryou said. "Truth or Dare?"

Yuugi thought about it for a minute. "Truth," he finally replied, earning a snort from Bakura.

"What's the strangest place you and Yami have done it?" Seto stared at Ryou, who seemed quite unabashed at the incredibly personal question.

"I'm not so sure I want to know this," Seto mumbled.

"Shut up, Seto," Jonouchi hushed him with a hand on his arm and it was all Seto could do to not flinch away.

Yuugi blushed crimson "Midleoflittlkidplayground," he said quickly, hiding his face in Yami's chest. Yami grinned and stroked his hikari's hair.

"Sorry, what was that?" Ryou asked.

"Donwannasayit," Yuugi mumbled.

"Come on, Yuug'," Jou said. "It's part 'a the game."

"In a little kid's playground," Yuugi choked out finally, his blush darkening.

Marik laughed. "I bet that put some kids in therapy. 'Mommy, what are those boys doing?'" he said in a high-pitched imitation of a traumatized child.

Yuugi glared at him. "There wasn't anyone there," he snapped.

"Yuugi, it's your turn," Ryou reminded him, giggling. Yuugi's face was still bright red and Yami pulled him into his lap, wrapping strong arms around him.

"Okay ... " Yuugi glanced around the room, seeking out his next victim. "Seto. Truth or Dare?"

"Truth," Seto replied instantly. If the truths were this embarrassing, he shuddered to think of what a dare might be.

"Coward," Bakura muttered.

"Are you straight?"

Seto blinked at Yuugi for a minute. Was the whole point of this game to humiliate each other? "I need a drink," he said, half-standing up. Jou grabbed him by the wrist.

"No ya don', Kaiba. I been wonderin' dis myself." He had?

"Come on, Kaiba, it's not like we can make fun of you," Malik reminded him.

True, Seto thought. Very true.

"But—I'm not—I mean, I don't—"

"Damn it, Kaiba, answer the question!" Marik snapped.

"No," Kaiba muttered, staring down at his feet. He could feel his cheeks blazing red.

Yuugi catcalled, and Seto blushed even more. "You're gay?" Honda asked incredulously.

Seto nodded miserably. The hikaris were giggling at him, the yamis flat-out laughing. The only one not mocking him was Jonouchi, who was looking up at him with an unreadable expression on his face. "Now that we've humiliated Seto enough for a lifetime—"Seto growled, burying his face in his hands.

"So much for not makin' fun 'a him, ya assholes," Jonouchi snapped, glaring around the room. "Leave 'im alone, it's not like any of ya have room t' talk."

"Hey," Honda protested. "I have a girlfriend."

"Yeah?" Jou asked angrily. "So what da hell were ya doin' in Otogi's apartment las' month?"

"Hey, that was before Anzu and I got together—"

"Still means ya swing da other way, don' it?"

Honda blushed.

"So leave 'im alone," Jou said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Why the hell are you getting so defensive of me, mutt?" Seto snapped. "I can defend myself without you stepping in."

"Y'know, dis whole dog thing is getting' a little old," Jou said, completely unfazed by Seto's attitude. "I think I'd prefer my name, if dat's all right with ya."

"Actually, it's not," Seto said in a clipped voice that clearly signaled 'End of Conversation' in big neon lights.

"Your turn, Seto," Mokuba reminded him.

"Mutt. Same question."

"You can't do that," Malik protested. "Can he do that?"

Mokuba shrugged. "I guess."

"Shut up, will you?" Seto snapped. He wanted—no, he needed—to hear the answer. He could feel his heart thudding in his chest, and his mouth was suddenly dry. He mentally shook himself, berating himself for caring so much. It was becoming more and more difficult to pull off cold and apathetic.

"Nope," Jou said casually. Yuugi, Ryou, Seto and everyone else in the room stared at him.

"Jou! Since when?" Yuugi asked, shocked.

"Y'know, I'm not sure I want to play anymore," Honda muttered. "I'm learning way more than I ever needed to know."

Jou ignored Honda. "Since foreva'." He shrugged. "I just neva' brought it up." He turned an amused eye on Bakura. "Your turn, Kura."

"Don't call me that."

"What, only darlin' Ryou can call ya dat?"

"That's right," Bakura growled, glaring at Jou. Ryou gave him a Look.

"All right, all right," Jou said. "Truth or Dare?"

"Dare," Bakura said immediately, as if determined to prove that he was braver than these humans.

Jou grinned wickedly, a smile Seto found incredibly sexy. "Make ou' wit' someone—and it can't be Ryou."

Bakura's eyes widened. "Ryou?" he asked, glancing to his hikari.

Ryou shrugged. "If you don't mean it, I don't care."

Bakura sighed and glanced around the circle. Yuugi was noticibly avoiding eye contact with him while Yami was glaring, as if to say 'Touch my hikari and I'll eviscerate you.'

"Marik," Bakura said finally. The Egyptian jumped, wide lavender eyes blinking at him in confusion.

"Me?"

"No, the Marik sitting behind you. Come here."

Marik looked slightly panicked and kept glancing back and forth between his hikari and the tomb robber. Malik grinned and squeezed his hand. "It's just a game. I don't mind," he assured his yami.

"You sure?"

"Yes, go on."

Marik stood up and walked over to Bakura, sitting down next to him.

Bakura put his hand on the side of Marik's face, brushing a thumb over the Egyptian's lower lip. "Don't look so nervous," he said, smiling in what he hoped was a comforting sort of way.

"How long?" Marik asked, unable to tear his eyes away from the tomb robber who was leaning in towards him, blue eyes halfway shut.

"Three minutes," Jou answered.

"See, it's not that bad," Bakura whispered huskily, hands on Marik's waist. "Open your mouth."

Marik complied and Bakura kissed him, tongue sliding in between Marik's lips. Marik looked startled for a moment but then relaxed, wrapping his arms around Bakura's neck.

Ryou was looking slightly distressed as they began to ease onto the carpet, Bakura pinning Marik to the floor, still kissing him hungrily. Marik moaned into Bakura's mouth and Ryou flushed.

Bakura counted to a hundred and eighty as quickly as he could, then broke away, leaving a rather flustered Marik lying on the floor, shirt hiked up over his stomach. Blushing, the Egyptian scooted back to his hikari, nuzzling Malik's neck in silent apology.

Bakura pulled his lighter half into his lap, nipping at his throat, and Ryou's blush only worsened. "What's wrong?"

Ryou buried his face in Bakura's chest and mumbled something incoherent. A slow grin spread across Bakura's face. "Is that all?" he asked. "We can take care of that later. After all, it's my turn," he said, grinning evilly.

"Okay," Mokuba said, catching Bakura's comment before anyone else did. "Everything has to be done in this room."

"Fine by me," Bakura said, casting a sidelong glance at Ryou.

"Without damaging the mental health of anyone in here."

Bakura's face fell. "Take away all my fun. Fine. Dice-boy." He glared at Otogi. "Truth or Dare?"

"Truth."

"Uh—"Bakura thought. "Well, thanks to Jonouchi we all know about you and Honda,"—Honda turned bright red—"So asking you about him would be pointless ... Alright, out of all the people in this room, who would you want in bed?"

"Oh, that's easy," Otogi said flippantly. He grinned ferally at the boy sitting next to him. "Mokuba."

Mokuba's smile widened and Seto paled.

"I swear to God, Otogi, if you touch my brother—"

"Woah, he's not a little kid anymore. He can decide for himself, onii-chan," Otogi said, flashing Seto a Look.

Seto rubbed his temples. "Not in my house," he moaned. "I can't deal with that imagery ... "

Jou patted his hand sympathetically. "Y'know, dey're both so domineering—I wonda' which one'd be on top?"

Seto glared at him. "I'm going to throw up on you," he announced. Jou hastily withdrew his hand.

"My turn," Otogi said, running a hand down Mokuba's arm. "Truth or Dare, Mokuba?"

"Dare," Mokuba purred throatily. Otogi leaned in close and whispered something in Mokuba's ear, something that brought a hint of a blush to the young Kaiba's cheeks. "Mm," he agreed. "I accept."

"What happened to 'in this room'?" Yuugi asked, arching an eyebrow at the two.

Mokuba shrugged. "I get to make the rules, and I just changed them."

"Mokuba, I said no." Seto half-rose from his chair.

"I'm not a child, you can't keep taking care of me, Seto! Not when I don't need it. Not when you can't take care of yourself!" Mokuba snapped, regretting it when he caught sight of the hurt that flashed into his brother's eyes.

"Moku ..." Seto began tenderly. He shook his head and the concerned look vanished, replaced by that horrible coldness. "Fine. Fuck whoever you want." He slouched down in his chair, jerking away from the comforting hand Jou tried to lay on his arm. "You don't need me anymore, I got it."

Mokuba looked stricken, pained and relieved all at the same time. "Onii-chan," he said, crouching down in front of Seto, who glared pointedly in the opposite direction. Mokuba spoke quietly, so that only Seto could hear. "I love you. You know that. I promise you I won't do anything with him until I mean it and he means it. I think I could love him, Seto. I think we could be happy."

Seto snorted. "Mokuba, don't patronize me. You've slept with more people than I can count, why should this be different?"

"Because Otogi's starting to mean something to me. I don't care if you believe me or not, onii-chan, the thing that matters to me is that I'll keep my word." He stood up and strode back to Otogi.

"Er—"Ryou said, watching the two walk up the stairs together. "Do we have to wait until you get back?"

"We're going to be a while," Mokuba said. "Malik, it's your turn."

"Um ... "Malik's gaze darted around the circle. "Ah ... Kaiba."

Seto inwardly groaned. He was beginning to hate this game. "Truth." No way was he going to make out with someone in front of these people, especially now that they knew he was gay. How could they treat something like that so lightly? For Mokuba to sleep with Otogi ... just because the actor had expressed an interest in his body? Was that how it was supposed to work? Perhaps he'd been disillusioned all along, fooled himself into thinking that love was involved.

"How boring," Marik commented.

"Are you a virgin?"

Jou watched Seto for some sort of reaction; he knew the eldest Kaiba hadn't had an easy life thus far. But Seto's face remained impassive, his eyes cold, though Jou could hear something much like a sharp, hissing intake of breath. "No."

"You've done it before? With who?" Malik realized that his turn was over, but curiosity had the better of him.

"Kamimura Yutou. He was one of my stepfather's business partners. He was twenty-six, I was fourteen." Kaiba's voice was flat, harsh, and his eyes glinted fiercely.

"He didn't—"Yuugi broke off.

"No. He seduced me, not raped me."

"Same thing in my book," Honda said. "You were just a kid."

"I know that," Seto snapped harshly, deriving a sick sort of satisfaction from the stricken look on Honda's face. "You don't think I regret it? Every day of my life, Honda. Every goddamned day of my life." He stood up abruptly. "I'll be outside."

"No, Kaiba, wait. We didn't—" Ryou began, but it was too late. He was already gone.

!Scene Change!

"Kaiba?"

"What do you want, mutt." It wasn't a question.

"I jus'—I thought ya'd be cold. I brough' ya a jacket."

"How fucking considerate." Seto didn't turn around, just continued glaring out at the sky. Jou tossed the jacket to him.

"Look, it's jus' a game. Ya didn' have ta answer Malik."

"He didn't have to ask such a personal question."

"It's not like he forced ya ta answer," Jou snapped. "He didn' know ya were raped! Maybe ya jus' like tha attention!"

He regretted the words the instant they were out of his mouth. Kaiba turned those intense blue eyes on him for an instant, his expression neither angry nor upset, only mildly bemused. "I like the attention? I suppose I never thought of it that way. Perhaps I do." His eyes again turned to the clouds, fiercer than before. "That would be what, a result of my father's neglect? Lack of parental support? Help me here, pup, you're the one taking psychology courses. What do you think is wrong with me?" He grinned, though there was no mirth, no emotion in his expression, save the frighteningly mad glint in his eyes. "I could be unstable, for all you know. I could be a mass murderer. Maybe a masochist? Maybe I liked being fucked while he held me down, hm?" Jonouchi flinched at the barely-repressed fury in Seto's voice as the taller man shoved him against the wall, hands on either side of his head, palms flat against the brick. Seto was volatile, that much was plain, and although Jou had no idea as to his intentions, he knew that he wanted to be as far away as possible right now. Seto could kill him easily, were he so inclined.

"Oh, I know yer unstable, Kaiba," Jou said with the barest hint of an attempt at humour as he tried to wiggle away from Seto's grip. "Don' think ya'd be tha masochistic type, but I could be wrong." Damn, what was wrong with him? His mouth didn't want to listen to his brain, it seemed.

"I think it's time for you to leave," Seto said after a brief and tense silence. He released Jou and turned away from him, as if he mere thought of having to stare into those honey eyes hurt him.

"I'm sorry," Jonouchi said sincerely, not quite understanding just why he was so upset. "Look, wha' I said ... it was outta line."

"Yes, it was."

"I'm sorry."

"You said that already."

"You haven' forgiven me."

Kaiba looked at him then, his eyes clouded with something that might have been pain, but Jou was too entranced to know how to help. Kaiba reached out a hand and Jou took it, stepping closer to Seto. "I was never angry, pup."

And then Jou's world stopped, narrowed until there was only Seto and the way his fingers pressed against the small of Jou's back, guiding the blonde toward him, the way his lips sought Jou's gently, questioningly, and dare he say it, fearfully.

They broke apart all too soon, Seto apparently realizing what he was doing. "I could never be angry with you, Jonouchi." His voice broke and he looked away. "I—I'm sorry." Most un-Seto like.

"Fer wha'?" Jou asked, smiling. He wrapped his arms around Seto's neck, entangling his fingers in the short hairs at the nape. He kissed Seto deeply, his manner insistent but not domineering. "Ya got nothin' to apologize for."

"Aww!"

They froze instantly, Seto's arms wrapped tightly around Jou's waist, both of them blushing more than seemed possible. Seto looked up, dreading what he was sure he would see ...

Mokuba and Otogi were hanging over the balcony of Mokuba's room, grinning stupidly at the flustered pair below them. "See, onii-chan? I didn't do anything with him—we just wanted a better view!"

"Oh, I don't know," a voice behind them, unmistakably Yami's, said. "I could see pretty well from here."

Jou glanced over Seto's shoulder and then buried his face in the elder Kaiba's chest, his own body shaking with laughter. "Seto ... they were watchin' us ... "

Seto turned slowly. Indeed they had a rather sizeable audience, though how they'd all managed to open the sliding glass door and step onto the balcony without Seto's notice was beyond him. He glanced down at the lithe young body in his arms and smiled hesitantly, as if the expression was afraid to show itself on his stony face. He had been a bit distracted, after all ...

"Took you two long enough," Bakura commented, burying his face in his blushing hikari's hair. "Although having people making out all over the place doesn't seem to be helping Ryou's problem any ... "

"Don't need to hear that," Honda said, looking nauseated. "I'm going to split ... I'll see you guys tomorrow, okay?"

"Bye, Honda," Jou said cheerily, impishly, Seto thought. Jou. Here. In his arms. Jou's hands slid around his waist, tightening in an almost possessive manner, or so it seemed to Seto.

An all-too-sudden wave of panic gripped his heart, crushing his chest, choking him. His smile gave way to a horrified expression, the farewell he'd been about to bid Honda turned into a low animal-like keening deep in his chest. His muscles tensed and he shoved Jou away harshly.

"Seto? Wha's wrong?" Jou grabbed him by the shoulder and was startled to find that the Kaiba was trembling. Seto's wide blue eyes stared at him, although Jonouchi was fairly certain that they didn't see him. He embraced Seto gently. "It's okay, Seto. I'm 'ere."

Seto gave a choked sob struggling against his grip. Jou held him tighter, afraid that Seto, in his condition, would hurt himself or someone else. "Seto, calm down. Don' cry, babe."

_"Don't cry, babe. You wanted me, remember?" A blow, a dizzying blow that drove fourteen-year-old Seto to his knees._

_"I never wanted you—"Seto coughed hoarsely, spitting blood. His head was spinning, and the words were thick in his mouth._

_"Don't lie, you're awful at it. And stop looking at me like that, it's creepy." The boy's rage-fueled eyes bored into his, sharp as an ice-blue blade. "You've been flirting with me for months, boy." Seto flinched._

_"Is he giving you trouble, Yutou?" Seto's head snapped around._

_"Father!" Seto reached out a hand, praying to whatever god cared that his stepfather would help him, would save him from this madman who'd bound him to his desk and stripped him of his clothing. "Father, please get me out of here!"_

_Gozaborou sneered at the battered, terrified boy. "You'd best be quiet, Seto."_

_"Father! Surely you can't mean—"_

_"Seto, I said to shut up, didn't I? Now be quiet while I talk to Yutou!"_

_Seto automatically quieted; although he longed to protest his violation at Yutou's hands, his body was trying to spare him more abuse by following Gozaborou's orders. Yes, the eldest Kaiba son had been trained well._

_He couldn't hear what they discussed, wasn't entirely sure he even wanted to. They spoke quietly, too softly for his fevered, panicked brain to even attempt to decipher the mumblings. Gozaborou left within the space of a few minutes, leaving him to the mercy of Yutou._

_"Yutou, please, don't—"He was begging, begging a psychopath not to rape him. Kaibas don't beg, he reminded himself, repeating the mantra in his head._

_Kaibas don't beg._

_"Ahhn! Oh, God, uhn, don't touch me!"_

_Kaibas don't beg._

_"Open wide, boy."_

_Kaibas don't beg._

_"No!"_

_Kaibas don't—_

_"Ah! Please, oh God, oh, oh, hnn!"_

_--don't beg. Kaibas don—_

_"Aaughh!"_

_--'t beg._

_"Don't! Nnngh!"_

_Laughter. Cold, cruel, biting, mocking. The stripping away of his dignity hurt worse than that of his virginity._

_Kaibas—_

_"Ba—hnn! Bastard! Ahh!"_

_--don't—_

_"Stop it! Nn—hnn—stop!"_

_--beg._

_"NOOO!"_

"NOOO!" Seto thrashed desperately, panic aiding his strength. Jou clung to him desperately.

"Seto, calm down! It's all right!"

"No! Let go of me! Stop!"

Jou kissed him gently, soothingly, but Seto only jerked away.

"Stop! Don't touch me ... please, please stop touching me ... "He collapsed against Jou, clutching his shirt. "Stop ... "He was so tired ... he could barely stand. "Don't ... Yutou ... someone help ... "

"Onii-chan!"

Everything went dark.


	2. And a Happy New Year?

Chapter Two: And a Happy New Year?

In which Seto angsts and Jou...uh...attacks him? Yeah, great summary.

Um, thank you to all my wonderful reviewers, you guys totally rock! When I get ten reviews I will pick a random reviewer and they will get a picture of their request drawn for them, and it doesn't necessarily have to pertain to this story, although that'd be nice. Just leave your email address, and you'll have it within a week!

I want an excuse to draw Seto/Jou fluff. I'll be doing this on all of my stories, and I'll draw one picture for every ten reviews ... remember, it's picked at random, so review every chapter for more chances!! Much luff! (Oh, and the pic has to be PG-13 ... no hardcore yaoi, please! I can't draw that!)

"I want to know what the hell happened to my brother!"

Dr. Aizawa, a short, rather worn-looking elder man, raised his hands in defense. "Kaiba-san, please—"Of all the days for Kaiba-sama to fall ill, it had to be the one day when the rest of his staff wasn't here, leaving poor Dr. Aizawa to face this alone. Merry Christmas.

"And call me Mokuba, dammit!" Mokuba was not in a good mood. He was pacing back and forth in front of his brother's sleeping form, occasionally snapping at the people around him.

"Mokuba-san," Dr. Aizawa said carefully, "I'm not entirely certain what happened."

"No?" Mokuba roared. "What the hell are we paying you for, then? He had an attack, Doctor, a full-fledged panic attack, flashbacks, fainting, all of it!" He paused, breathing heavily as Otogi tried to comfort him. Mokuba attempted to jerk away, but the actor kept a firm grip on his arm.

"Mokuba-kun, calm down. Seto's fine now, look."

Seto didn't look fine. He was still unconscious, sprawled out on the couch where Jou had dragged him. His slender fingers clenched at the fabric of the pillows as he tossed his head from side to side, obviously trapped in some nightmare.

Jou sat on the floor next to him, hands clasped on Kaiba's chest, murmuring to him in a low tone. "It's alrigh' now ... I'm 'ere for ya ... "

"What I want to know," Mokuba said in a frighteningly calm voice, "Is why the drugs aren't working."

"Perhaps because he stopped taking them six months ago."

Mokuba blinked. "He did what?"

Dr. Aizawa sighed. "He gave instructions that his last prescription was not to be filled. Said he was tired all the time when he took the drugs, couldn't stay up to work." And said that you were not to be informed of this, Aizawa thought to himself.

"Why did he have an attack today?"

"My best guess is a residual memory, triggered, perhaps, by something that happened—something that was said?"

"But nothing ... I mean ... we were all celebrating Christmas ... he seemed happy ... "

Dr. Aizawa stared at Mokuba. He'd never seen Kaiba happy. The very thought frightened him. "No traumas? No one tried to touch him, did they?" He glanced around the room. "No, of course not, there's no women here. How silly of me."

He stopped before he could further humiliate himself. Nine furious glares (Honda had left after being reassured that he couldn't help anymore) obliterated anything else he might have said.

"I did," Jou said hesitantly. "I—I mean, I didn' know he'd freak like dat. 'E kissed me first, it wasn' like I forced myself on 'im."

"He kissed you?" Dr. Aizawa was gazing at him in a most thoughtful manner. "Is that so?"

"Yeah," Jou said. "I didn'—I mean—was I wrong?" He gave the doctor a sorrowful look, one strangely reminiscent of a puppy who has no idea why he's being scolded. "I didn' know dat he was raped...he neva' told me." Jou's glance fell back to Seto. "I wasn' gonna hurt 'im."

"You didn't do anything wrong," Mokuba said gently. "It's his fault. He shouldn't have stopped his meds."

"Fuck you."

"Seto!" Jonouchi sat up. "Are ya a'right?"

"I'm fine." Seto massaged his throbbing temples and swung his legs off of the couch.

"Kaiba-san, you really should take these." Aizawa held out a small cup containing a few pills rattling around the bottom. Seto knocked the doctor's hand away, sending the pills flying.

"Dammit, I said no. I'm fine."

"Onii-chan, take the damn meds." Mokuba crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes narrowing in a creepily accurate imitation of Seto.

"No." Seto lurched to his feet, overbalanced, and nearly crashed into his brother. "I don't want drugs."

"You want to freak out every time someone touches you?"

"I. Am. Fine." Mokuba quailed a bit at the fierce determination in his brother's voice, but he recovered quickly, baring his teeth.

"You're going to sit down, and you're going to take those pills now."

Seto shoved Mokuba out of the way. "Like hell."

!Scene Change!

"Can I help you?"

No reply.

"What do you want?"

Stony silence.

"Dammit, mutt, get out of my room."

"I need t' talk t' ya." Jonouchi sat resolutely in Seto's doorway, preventing him from closing the door. All attempts thus far to remove him had been unsuccessful.

"If I listen, will you go away?"

"Mebbe."

Seto ground his teeth together and tried to calm himself. Cute as the pup was, he could be completely infuriating at times like this. And a mother of a headache was pounding behind his eyes. Exasperated, Kaiba rolled onto his side, waving Jou into the room.

He heard the door close with a click and felt a weight settle onto the bed. He knew it was Jou, knew that he'd only closed the door so they could talk in private, but his muscles tensed of their own accord and he found himself wrapping his arms protectively about his own body. "So, what do we need to talk about?"

He'd really expected an answer. A confusing answer, related in that heavy Brooklyn accent, an answer barely recognizable as Japanese, but an answer nonetheless.

What he had not expected was for Jou to grab his shoulders, pin him to the mattress, and kiss him. Unfortunately, Jou had a flair for the unexpected.

When it finally clicked, Seto thrashed wildly, screaming into the relentless heat of Jou's mouth. Something along the lines of, "Let me go," but he doubted the mutt could hear him anyways. Under that smiling veneer, the pup was strong, and though Seto had a weight advantage, Jou was perfectly capable of keeping him down.

"I am not letting you go until you're straight with me, pardon the pun," Jou said, pulling back and still breathing heavily. With no little surprise, Seto realized that his accent was gone. Apparently mood changes affected his voice?

"About what?" Seto sputtered.

"About us. Are you interested or not? Can you even stand being around me? This thing with that Yutou guy ... do I remind you too much of him?"

"It's a lot easier to talk without someone sitting on my chest."

"Too damn bad." Jou was far more serious than Seto had ever seen him. "I need an answer. Give me one, and I'll leave."

"I ... " Seto blushed and looked away, trembling slightly under Jou's heated stare. "I really don't want to talk about this right now."

"Then when, Seto?" Something that might have been pain glimmered briefly in Jonouchi's eyes for a brief moment. "Please ... I don't know how much longer I can take this."

"Give me a week."

"A week?"

"Yes, mutt. Seven days. One hundred and sixty-eight hours."

"Seto ... I'm not going to lie. I want you. Badly." Jou ignored the insult, completely out of character for him. Suddenly the warmth of his weight on Seto's chest was all the dazed CEO could concentrate on, all that his world consisted of.

Seto shivered. "I know, pup. Give me some time to get things sorted out, alright?"

"You think you can heal in a week?"

"Can you wait any longer?"

Jou grinned and Seto relaxed; that was the expression he was used to. "Nah," Jou said, his accent returning, stronger than before. "Neva' was the patient type."

Seto gave him a weary half-smile. "I know."

!Scene Change!

"How is he?" Mokuba jumped up as Jou entered the room. The blonde shrugged.

"Wants ta sleep," he said in a flat voice. "He's not feelin' so hot."

"Are you going to be alright?" Yuugi asked, laying a gentle hand on Jonouchi's shoulder.

"Eh? Me? I'm fine, Yuug. Don' worry 'bout me."

Yuugi crossed slim arms over his chest and gave Jonouchi his best "stop bullshitting me" stare.

Jonouchi sighed. "Soon as Seto's feelin' better, I will too."

!Scene Change!

He bolted upright in bed, shivering and sweating, his elegant fingers clenching the sheets in a white-knuckled death grip. His heart was pounding so loudly, that he was sure they could hear it downstairs.

This was absurd, a more rational part of his mind informed him. Seto Kaiba doesn't do fear. Be calm. Be in control.

He laughed, a nervous laugh, one that echoed off the walls and bounced back at him in an insane imitation of his own voice. He was scared. Terrified. How long had it been since he had felt like this? Shaking, gasping for air, curled up protectively. A headache threatened at the corners of his eyes and he massaged his throbbing temples with trembling fingers. A dream. It had only been a dream.

But it had been so real, so vivid. Bound, helpless, with the sharp fibers of the carpet covering his stepfather's office floor digging into his bare skin. Darkness, save for the pale light of the full moon streaming through the picture window. The silhouette of a man standing over him, watching as he writhed and pleaded to be set free.

And this same fear, the same inability to move or think or defend himself. The man had crouched down next to him, and Seto caught the gleam of white teeth flashing in an amused smile as the man's fingers trailed lazily down his body. "Yutou," he had gasped, begging. "Let me go, please let me go."

And suddenly the face had been inches from his own, the predatory grin widening. "Yutou?" his voice had questioned serenely. "Who's dat?"

"Jonouchi!"

And at that point he had awoken, and was sitting here now trying desperately to forget. Jonouchi would never do that, he assured himself. Don't confuse him with Yutou.

It was frustrating; he, who had read every book on psychology ever printed, couldn't banish these irrational thoughts from his mind. Being able to recognize the onset of paranoia and not being able to stop it was incredibly irritating.

"Onii-chan?"

Seto turned his head away. He didn't want Mokuba to see him like this. "What do you want?"

Mokuba froze; his brother's voice was quivering. "Onii-chan? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"Liar." Mokuba shut the door behind him with a soft click and sat down next to his brother, taking him gently by the shoulders. Seto stiffened and jerked away, clutching his sheets around him. "Onii-chan, you're shaking. What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" Seto asked with a hint of a self-deprecating laugh. "What isn't?"

"That's a hell of an attitude. You were fine up until yesterday."

"If you say so."

"Well, I'd _know_ so if you didn't hide so much!"

"Hide?"

"Yes, hide. When was the last time you actually talked to someone when you were upset? When was the last time you so much as hinted that everything wasn't perfect?"

"Everything is fine. I was only having a nightmare."

"That's exactly what I'm talking about! Everything doesn't have to always be fine. You're allowed to be upset. You're allowed to hurt."

Seto snorted. "Yeah." He turned to look at Mokuba. "And how do you think your life would have turned out if I let myself fall apart? If I couldn't take what Gozaborou and Yutou did to me? They would have turned to you, Mokuba. If I had ended up in a psych ward, Kaiba Corp would have been passed to you. _You_ would have been 'trained.'"

"He's dead, Seto. He's been dead for years."

"And you think that makes it all go away? You think seeing that bastard dead made me forget that he let his friend fuck me? It hurt, Mokuba! It still hurts! I hate the fact that I can't even let Jonouchi touch me without having a panic attack! I hate drugging myself to forget, and I hate forcing myself to stay up until two in the morning just so I don't have to think before I fall asleep! I—hate—him—!" Seto bowed his head, fighting the angry tears that pricked at the corners of his eyes. He dug his fingernails into his palms until thin rivulets of blood streamed down his slender wrists.

Mokuba grabbed his hands. "Stop that," he ordered, forcing Seto's fingers open. "Don't hurt yourself." He wrapped his arms around his brother and held Seto to his chest. "Don't beat yourself up, onii-chan. It wasn't your fault."

"I didn't want him," Seto mumbled into Mokuba's shirt. "I don't care what he said, I didn't want him."

"I know, onii-chan. I know."


	3. The Children Were Nestled all Snug in Th...

Chapter Three: The children were nestled all snug in their bed...

And it certainly wasn't sugarplums dancing through _these_ boys' heads.

Look at that. I can take a perfectly innocent title and turn it into innuendo. I love me. Woo-chah.

Angst bunnies ahoy in this chapter. For those of you concerned about them, I can only tell you that it has to get worse before it gets better. And, well ... it gets worse.

I LOVE MY REVIEWERS! I had a small problem...I had to repost the story and I lost the five reviews I had before that, and it made me so unhappy.

I ... uh, I appreciate Foreign-Newbie's concern about whether or not I am depressed ... I'm not really sure how to answer that. I'm fairly certain that I'm not, I'm just much better at writing angsty storylines.

And to Arora, I'm glad you appreciated Jou's outfit. More in this chapter about why he was dressed like a Vegas showgirl. And thank you for your lovely comment about how I put effort into their speech. I really do. Speaking Jonouchi-ese is rather hard, and it's nice that someone appreciates it! (And yes, I tried to make Mokuba sound sexy XP)

Kumori, thank you for being so nice! Here's the update you were after!

BarbedWire23 ... um ... sad is good, yes? I'm assuming it it, and continuing like you asked.

setoobsessive, I'm glad you like it. And thank you for appreciating the cute aspect! I really try to balance fluff with angst, and chapter four, which isn't done yet, has some pretty fluffy bits. And yes, Mokuba is naughty. Although, people seem to like him that way!

To my dear Calico-Avengi, thank you for being such a faithful reviewer! I love you! (chucks cookies at you)

Poor Seto. He's so hormonal. Can you say sexual frustration?

He knew he shouldn't be here. Every fiber of conscience in his body screamed at him to leave. He had _promised_, he shouldn't force him. Jonouchi sighed an contemplated beating his head against the carpet, just to shut himself up.

SHUT UP!

His conscience fell silent with a miffed 'hmph.'

I have every right to be here, he told himself stubbornly.

_Which is why you're hoping he doesn't wake up and throw something at you?_

What did I tell you about talking?

_It's kinda in the job description; protect host from permanent damage and all._

I'm ignoring you.

_Fine_.

Fine.

_Hmph._

Nyah.

Jou rested his chin of his hand and resumed his watch over Seto's recumbent body. He was amazed at how different Seto looked without his customary glare. His features were relaxed in sleep, rendered almost seraphic in the pale silver moonlight.

_The more gorgeous they are when they're sleeping, the more hellish they are when they're awake._

Jou resolutely ignored the comment. Seto rolled onto his side, curling up like a cat and clutching a fistful of bedcovers. Jou sighed; exhaustion was already wearing away at him, and his eyelids seemed to weigh ten pounds apiece. He was so tired ...

Surely Seto wouldn't mind if he slept here? He didn't know where his room was (Mokuba had shown him, but being Jou, he'd forgotten already.) and he didn't feel like sleeping on the couch. Especially when he considered how much effort it would take to make it down the staircase without killing himself in the process.

Jonouchi shifted uncomfortably, wincing when his leather-bound legs slid across the polished wood of his chair, emitting a horrible screech. Fortunately, Seto didn't do more than twitch, mumble, and resume his heavy breathing.

He couldn't sleep dressed like this. Why he'd let Yami talk him into dressing like this was beyond him; the pants weren't exactly comfortable, and they squeaked every time he moved. He got up carefully, watching Seto for signs of movement, and padded over to what he hoped was a dresser.

He worried for a moment that the drawers would creak and wake Seto up. _Stupid, _he told himself. _This is Kaiba we're talking about. If a drawer creaked, he wouldn't fix it, he'd just buy a new dresser._ Sure enough, the drawer slid open smoothly.

Jou could barely see, even by the light of the full moon. He had to poke and prod at the clothes to discern when they were. After ten minutes and six drawers, he finally found a silky pair of pajama pants. Casting a quick glance at the still-slumbering Kaiba, he stripped off his shirt, became entangled, overbalanced and fell to the floor with a thud.

"Damn it!" he yelped before remembering that he was supposed to be quiet. He picked himself up off the floor and bent over Kaiba's bed, trying to figure out if he'd woken the exhausted CEO or not.

Seto's breath stopped and he froze. Someone was in the room with him! His fists clenched as he watched warily through half-closed lids. The figure stepped back with a sigh of relief, and Seto's heart skipped a beat.

He was—well, the only word Seto's awestruck mind could come up with was _beautiful_. Clad only in tight leather pants, Jonouchi stood at the foor of his bed, looking for all the world like a ghost, or a spirit. Something ethereal, something inhuman, something—

Angelic.

His skin glimmered with the faintest hint of pearl, the moonlight throwing every curve and angle into stark relief. His sandy hair gleamed, shot through with strands of pure silver, and his honey-gold eyes seemed brighter than usual.

Jou tossed his shirt to the floor, fingers deftly unbuttoning his pants. "Damn, Yami," he muttered to himself, almost too softly to hear. "How d'you wear dese all 'a time?" Seto's eyes widened. Oh, God. Ohgodohgodohgod.

Jonouchi was standing in the middle of his room, completely naked.

"Can' even wear anyt'ing under 'em," h murmured. "Las' time I wea' leatha."

It was getting harder and harder to ignore the throbbing in his stomach moving steadily downward. Seto closed his eyes tightly, trying desperately to think happy thoughts.

When he opened them again, Jonouchi was crouched by his dresser, rifling through the drawers in what Seto assumed to be a search for boxers.

"Hah," Jonouchi said triumphantly as Seto groaned quietly and pulled the covers over his head.

Why was Jonouchi in his room? For that matter, why was Jonouchi in his room not wearing enough? And why wasn't Seto more upset?

_He's got a nice body_, Seto admitted. More than nice. Gorgeous. Well-toned. Flat-out _hot_.

Seto could feel his face flush. He'd never _ever_ been so ... so ... _crude_. He hadn't realized exactly how badly he wanted the mutt.

And now his body was making it painfully obvious.

Still feigning sleep, Seto rolled onto his stomach, wincing as the ache in his groin made itself known with a particularly agonizing throb. This was insane. He would _not_ give in to these ... animalistic urges. He would go to sleep and everything would be fine.

And this logic worked rather well. Until Jonouchi decided to lay down on the bed next to him and snuggle up to his side.

"G'night, Seto," Jou whispered, the pleasant warmth of his breath washing gently over the shell of Seto's ear.

"You're making this difficult, mutt," Seto mumbled into his pillow.

"Eh? Yer awake?" Jou jerked back, as if Seto had bitten him.

"You noticed."

"Ah ... fer how long?"

"Long enough."

"I'm sorry, I jus'—I mean, I dunno where my room is an'—"

"And you couldn't sleep wearing clothing?" Seto opened one eye, peeking over the pillow at the flustered blonde.

"I _am_ wearin' clothes." Jou gave him an offended look. "I jus' had ta borrow a pair 'a pants. You eva try sleepin' in leatha?"

"No."

"Don't think leatha's my thing," Jou said, resting his chin on his forearms. He was lying sprawled across Seto's bed, which was easily large enough to fit four or five comfortably. "Neva' shoulda let Yuug' talk me inta wearin' it."

"If you don't like it, why wear it?"

"Ah ... well ... "Jou blushed adorably. "Um ... Yuug' and Yami said it looked good on me, an' ... well ... I guess I wanted ta look nice fer you ... "Jou glaced down, cheeks blazing red.

Seto reached out, taking Jou's chin gently and tilting his head up. "For me?" Seto asked lightly. "You were miserable all day just so I had something to stare at?"

"You were starin' at me?" Seto smirked. He'd never intended "mutt" as anything more than an insult, but the more time he spent around Jonouchi, the more he realized how puppylike he really was. Bright, energetic, eager-to-please, and fiercely protective of his friends. Fucking adorable, too. At times like this, one could almost imagine his ears pricking up and his tail wagging.

"I guess," he said harshly. Jou's teeth flashed in the gloom.

"You think I'm cute?" he asked roguishly.

Seto flushed. "Go to sleep, mutt."

"Naah," Jou scolded. "I asked ya a question."

Seto glowered at him. Go to sleep before I make you sleep on the floor."

Jou paled. "You wouldn' ... "

Seto arched a finely chiseled eyebrow. "That's where dogs belong."

Jou stuck out his tongue. "I'm not a dog, Kaiba."

Seto's only response was an outstretched hand that caught Jou's tongue between two fingers. "Don't talk back to your master, pup."

Jou sputtered. "Oo no' ma mather," he protested.

"Mm," Seto agreed, releasing his tongue and pulling him closer. "But I'd like to be." Seto hadn't known the mutt could blush that much.

"You—Seto—you said a week—"

"Hn." Seto was nibbling gently at his jawline, obviously not paying any attention at all.

"Seto, stop it."

Seto did. "I—I thought you wanted me?" Jou looked into his eyes and choked. Seto looked—hurt?

"'Course I do," he managed after a moment. "It's jus'—you're hormonal and unbalanced righ' now. You've had a hell of a day, and I won' do anythin' you'll regret in the mornin'."

"You go on and on about how you can't wait a week to screw me, and then you start acting like a damn monk when I offer." Seto's voice was cold.

"What? No, dat wasn' what I meant. I don' jus' want your body, I want you."

Seto blinked. "What"

"I want a relationship. Not jus' sex."

"A—?"

"Relationship. C'mon man, you're a genius. You know what dat means."

"Yes, but—"

"I know—"Jou's voice broke and he clenched his fists tightly. "I know dat it seems like ev'ryone dat's interested in you jus' wants ta get you in bed, but—dat's not how it's s'posed ta work, Seto." Seto watched, astonished. Was he crying? Jou buried his face in his hands, confirming Seto's suspicion.

"Pup, what's wrong?"

Jou sniffled and lowered his hands, honey-gold eyes brimming with crystalline tears. "Because I—I can't stand tha thought a' what dey did to you, Seto. When you had dat attack—you were so scared. I—I neva' seen you like dat before. I don' wanna see it again. I'd kill Gozaborou if he wasn' already dead, th' bastard."

"Pup—"

"How many times?"

Seto froze. "What?"

"How many times did dey rape you?"

"How—I—how did you—?"

"You neva' tol' anyone it was more den once, did ya?"

"I—" Seto faltered. How did he know? "How did you figure it out?"

Jou smiled sadly, regretfully. "Wasn' dat hard."

"Wasn't that hard? I didn't even tell Mokuba, much less the shrinks."

"Why not? I mean, dey were dere t' help you, weren' dey?"

Seto dropped his gaze. "I was ashamed, mutt. Surely you can understand that."

"It wa'n't your fault." Jonouchi's eyes flashed angrily. "Da bastards _raped_ you! You couldn' help it!"

"Maybe not the first time. But—I was small when I was fourteen. I couldn't fight back. By the last time—well, you remember how big I was at sixteen. I could've fought. I was strong enough."

"You can' be serious! You really think it was your fault?"

Seto's temper flared. "I let them, mutt! I didn't even protest!"

"Dey woulda punished you! You were jus' tryin t' protect yourself."

"I was their _whore,_ Katsuya! I slept with half of my father's employees!"

"You are _not_ a whore, Seto! Don' you _eva_ let me hear you say dat again!" Jou was fairly shaking with rage. "You understand me? _Eva!_"

"Calm down, mutt."

"I don' understand how you can be so calm!"

"It was a long time ago, mutt. You get used to it after a while."

"I don' believe dat."

Seto shot him a patented Seto death-glare . "What?"

"I don' think you eva get used t' dat. I think you jus' learned to push ev'ryone away so you don' hafta deal wit' it again. Am I right?"

Seto glared at him. "I'm going to sleep."

"Dat's exactly what I'm talkin' about. When was th' las' time you admitted dat somethin' was wrong?"

Seto wondered briefly if Jonouchi had bee talking to Mokuba. "Nothing's wrong. It was seven years ago. I'm fine. Now go to sleep."

"Dat's bullshit and you know it."

Seto snorted. "Think what you will."

"You're not over it an' you're not fine."

You're right. I'm not fine. I'm fucking tired and you're pissing me off. Now would you _please_ drop it?"

"Like hell."

For the second time that day Seto found himself flat on his back with Jonouchi straddling him, pinning him to the mattress. "What the hell are you—" His words cut off abruptly when Jou's lips closed over his own in a furious, crushing kiss. A helpless whimper forced its way from his throat as Jonouchi's tongue delved into his mouth. No ... not again, no ... it was just like his dream ...

"Mutt, no ... "

"Shut up, Kaiba. I don' wanna hear your whining."

Seto flinched as if he'd been struck. In ten seconds he'd gone from the proud, arrogant twenty-three-year-old CEO of a multibillion-yen corporation to a frightened, trembling fourteen-year-old lying prone and helpless on an office floor. Rough, possessive hands tore at him, pulled his shirt off, teasing his stomach with unrelenting, ice-cold fingertips. Seto's breath caught in his chest and he struggled slightly as Jou laved one pink nipple with his tongue.

Jou flashed him a predatory grin. "You like that?"

Seto shook his head wordlessly, watching Jou with wide, panicked eyes. He'd been stupid, letting Jonouchi in his bed. Stupid to think that he might care for him. Stupid to think that anyone wanted more than his body. He made no protest as Jou flipped him onto his stomach, deft fingers working at the fastening of his pants.

Seto closed his eyes, setting his teeth and gripping the pillow tightly with white-knuckled fingers. This was it; all he was to Jonouchi was an easy fuck. Should have expected it.

That didn't ease the tight knot of disappointment in his chest. He had no reason to be upset. He was all too used to this. Worthless. He would never escape this. He didn't want to. It was too confusing, trying to figure out what another person was thinking, what they wanted. Simpler to not have to worry about emotional attachment.

But still ... it hurt.

"Shit."

Jonouchi had stopped. He knelt over Seto, panting, weight supported by a hand on either side of his compliant body. What was wrong?

Seto rolled over onto his back, eyes downcast to avoid having to look into those cold, hard eyes. "I'm sorry," he said automatically, without knowing quite why. "I'll be good, I promise.

"Oh God, Seto ... " Jonouchi let out a strangled sob and engulfed the bewildered brunette in a clinging, desperate embrace. Seto stiffened, waiting for the inevitable punishment for speaking out of turn. Instead Jonouchi held him tightly, face buried in his shoulder. "You woulda—shit, I neva realized—oh God, I'm so sorry."

Seto blinked. "Hunh?"

Jou lifted his head and Seto could make out crystalline tears glistening on his cheeks. Jou's amber eyes were pleading, begging for forgiveness. "Seto—You woulda let me rape you, wouldn' ya? I—I wasn' going to. I didn' mean t' scare you, I jus'—jus' had to know how badly they screwed wit your mind."

"You were testing me?"

Jou nodded miserably, resting his head on Seto' chest. "I'm so sorry."

"It's alright," Seto said, awkwardly stroking Jou's hair. "Don't worry about it, pup."

"How can you say dat? You were scared—scared a' _me_!" Jou's grip on him tightened. "I wouldn't a' done it."

"I know," Seto lied.

"But d'you believe it?"

"I ... I'm not certain," Seto admitted, more confused than he had been in years. "Give me time."

Jou burrowed deeper in Seto's chest. "You don't hafta be scared a' me," he said. "I won' hurt you." He looked up at Seto and smiled. "Good night, Seto." He rolled off of him, turning his back on Seto.

Seto snorted. He wasn't _that_ paranoid. He reached out and drew Jonouchi close, until they were pressed together, Jou's back to his chest, legs entwined. "Good night, puppy."

Was that okay? (looks nervous)


	4. Sweet Silver Bells

Chapter Four: Sweet Silver Bells

Ah, God, I love my reviewers. It makes me so happy to see that little number underneath my story be one higher than yesterday ... thank you guys so much. You're truly wonderful. And so, I give you the fourth chapter of "Memories and Battle Scars." Please enjoy.

"Seto."

_Go away_, he thought. _I don't want to get up._

"Seto ... "

_Mokuba, leave me alone. Wait, what're you doing? Let go of me._

"If you don't wake up, I'm gonna bite you."

"Nng ... mutt?" Seto groaned and opened one eye. "Ow!"

His eyes flew open, his hand flying to the afflicted spot on his throat, and he shot an accusing glance at Jonouchi. "What the fuck do you think you're doing, mutt?"

"I said I was gonna bite you. You had fair warnin'."

"Damn it, I was getting up! That hurt!"

"Oops," Jou grinned, completely unabashed. "My bad."

Seto threw a pillow at him, hitting him square in the face. "Hey!"

"Let me sleep!" Seto snapped.

"I jus' thought I'd warn ya—I hear Yuug' comin'. You might wanna—"

Picture if you will, the panic-stricken expression of a hiker who's heard the first telltale rumblings of an avalanche. The terror of a hunter who's felt the first thunderings of a stampede.

"Yuugi! Slow down!"

"Hikariiii!"

"Jou, you'd better get Seto—"

"MERRY CHRISTMAS!" Thud.

"Augh!" Seto disappeared under a bouncy blur of black, gold and purple.

"—up," Ryou finished lamely.

Seto found himself flat on his back, wondering dimly why he was having difficulty breathing. Yuugi was sitting contentedly on his chest, beaming at him, and he could hear Jonouchi sniggering in a most undignified manner.

"Merry Christmas," Seto said thickly, mind still processing precisely what had happened.

"I'm sorry about that," Yami sighed, prying his hyperactive hikari off of Seto. "He gets overexcited about the holidays."

"I noticed." Seto gingerly massaged his bruised ribs, wincing. "Is he usually this cheerful?"

"Usually," Jou said, retrieving a shirt from Seto's drawer. "Who's makin' breakfast? I'm starvin'!"

"And one for Ryou ... ooh and one for me ... " Yuugi was having what was presumably the time of his life sorting through the rather large pile of presents stacked on Seto's dining room table. "And ... Otogi, I can't read your handwriting ... "

Otogi leaned over to peer at the tag. "Ah ... I think that says 'Yami.'"

Yuugi gave him an odd look. "You don't know what it says?" Otogi shrugged.

"Penmanship never was my strong point."

Seto glanced at Jonouchi. The blonde was toying with his spoon, swirling the miso soup around his bowl. That alone was cause to worry; Seto had never seen him pass up food.

"So," Otogi said conversationally, "What time are Anzu and Honda supposed to get here?"

Seto shrugged. "Since when am I their babysitter?" he snapped.

Otogi arched an eyebrow at him. "Well _someone's_ PMSing." Seto short him a glare that would have made normal people scream and run away, but the actor just grinned at him. "You might have wanted to wear a turtleneck today, sweetheart."

Seto's hand flew to the reddening bite-mark on his throat, the barest hint of a self-conscious blush colouring his pale cheeks. "Jonouchi decided that the best way to wake me up would be to bite me."

"Yeah," Otogi said skeptically. "I'm sure." He gave Jonouchi a roguish wink, and the blonde turned positively scarlet. "I'm sure."

"Shut it, Otogi," Jonouchi snarled. "It'd be a shame t' smash dat pretty face a' yours."

Otogi gave an exaggerated sigh. "Ah, of course, the mutt's first resort is to violence. How very typical."

"I'm warnin' you—"

"Don't call him a mutt," Seto hissed at Otogi.

Otogi's eyes widened in feigned surprise. "What, only you're allowed to call him that?"

"That's right."

"How very ... _possessive_ of you," Otogi purred at him. He glanced at Jonouchi. "So, was he any good?"

Jonouchi stood up so fast he nearly knocked his chair over. "You—!" he growled, fists clenched, face brilliant crimson.

"Otogi," Seto said calmly, leaning back in his chair. "Might I advise you to shut the hell up?"

Otogi snorted. "Touchy," he commented.

"Damn straight," Jou huffed, sinking back down into his chair, glaring daggers at the actor.

"I don't think it's too much to ask that you be polite," Seto commented. "Being an asshole in your own house is one thing, but you're my guest and I can throw you out if I want." He turned in response to the gentle tap on his shoulder, and found himself face-to-lens with a camera. "What the—" he jerked away violently, scrambling out of his chair.

"Hey, calm down, I just wanted a picture." Anzu peered out from behind the lens, giving Kaiba a hurt look. "I didn't mean to scare you." She'd arrived half an hour before, laden down with presents for her friends and enough Christmas cheer to make Seto throw up what little he'd eaten. He could handle Anzu only in very small doses, and the girl was beginning to grate on his nerves.

"I don't like cameras," he said, turning away so she couldn't see his face, much less photograph it. "Get the damn thing out of my face."

Otogi arched an eyebrow at him, but wisely stayed silent.

"Done!" Yuugi trilled, spreading his arms wide to indicate the piles of packages.

"Onii-chan?"

Seto glanced up at his brother. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just wanted to make sure you were alright." He smiled at Jonouchi, asleep on Seto's chest. "I guess I didn't have to worry about that."

Seto absently ran slim fingers through Jonouchi's hair, careful not to wake the smaller man. "He said I make a good pillow." Seto's ice-chip eyes softened ever-so-slightly. Anyone but Mokuba would have completely missed the almost-smile.

Mokuba smirked. "I heard what he said, onii-chan. He called you a teddy bear."

Seto glared at Mokuba. "I am not a teddy bear." He was leaned against the plush arm of his favourite couch, with Jonouchi sprawled out next to him, resting his head on Seto. Someone (Mokuba wasn't sure who, but he hoped no one had let Yuugi play with matches) had lit the fire, and a warm blaze crackled cheerfully in the fireplace, throwing playful shadows on the hikaris and yamis dozing on chairs, couches, and (in Ryou's case) the floor. It was kind of ... cute, if one could call Marik and Bakura cute. Anyways, they were considerably less deadly-looking when asleep. Honda, Anzu and Otogi were still sitting at Seto's dining room table, talking quietly so as to not wake their friends. Up until about thirty seconds ago, Mokuba had been sitting with them.

"That's pretty," Mokuba said, gesturing to the thin silver bracelet that hung around Seto's wrist. Seto glanced down at it, wondering why Jonouchi had spent so much money on him.

The body of an ornate silver dragon wound around his wrist, its minute teeth glimmering in the firelight as it bit down on its own tail, tiny sapphire eyes gleaming fiercely as it fought to keep its grip, Seto imagined. Needle-sharp silver talons clawed wildly at the air, searching for something to clasp onto in its furious, self-inflicted battle.

"Yeah" Seto agreed, still staring at the bracelet with questioning eyes. "I'm just glad it's not another damn Blue-Eyes sculpture or something."

Mokuba cocked his head. "I dunno," he said. "It's a silver dragon with blue eyes. What's the difference?"

"It's a traditional dragon, not a holographic one." Seto said, running the pad of his thumb over the dragon's head. "I like it."

Mokuba shook his head and grinned. He loved seeing his brother like this, not glaring, cursing or throwing things at anyone. He seemed more human, somehow.

The last two days had been rough on him, not to mention the last twenty-seven years. Seto deserved a bit of happiness.

"So are you gonna go out with him?"

This, evidently, had been the wrong thing to say. Seto's face fell, and he pulled his hand away from Jou's hair quickly, as if the golden locks had burned him. "No."

"What?" Mokuba stared at his brother incredulously. "Are you insane? He ... you ... you've had a crush on him ever since I can remember!"

"He doesn't deserve this much stress."

"Here we go," Mokuba said, rolling his eyes. "Stop being a martyr for once."

"I. Am not. A martyr."

"You're fucking acting like one. Look, he wasn't disgusted, or sickened or whatever the hell you think he should have been when he found out what happened, was he?"

"No."

"So what's the problem?"

"That _is_ the problem."

"Ah," Mokuba said sarcastically. "I get it. You expect people you date to hate you as much as you hate yourself? Let me tell you, you're going to get interesting relationships out of that."

"I do not hate myself!"

"I read the fucking psychiatrist's reports, onii-chan!" Mokuba hissed, not raising his voice for fear of waking his friends. "Don't bullshit me."

"Leave me alone."

"That pretty much seems to be your reply to everything, onii-_sama_," Mokuba snapped. "You're gonna have a hell of a time convincing _him_ to stay away." Mokuba whirled around and stalked away, raven hair flying.

Seto sighed, glaring down at the armful of sleeping puppy he currently held. Why was it that his mouth always seemed insistent on saying the opposite of what he was thinking?

_I wasn't made for socializing,_ he decided, easing Jou onto a pillow and out of his lap. Jou whimpered slightly at the loss of his human teddy bear, and tightened his hold on the pillow, as if, even asleep, he could tell that Seto had rejected him. Seto brushed gentle, cautious fingers over the fine bones of Jou's cheek, eyes softening when the blonde arched toward his touch.

This is what I do, he thought, jamming his hands into his pockets. I _like_ being alone.

So why was it so hard to walk away?

Jonouchi woke up confused and alone. He didn't like feeling like that, didn't like waking up on a cold couch, cuddling a pillow instead of the warm lap he'd fallen asleep on. "'Ey, Mokuba."

"Nrgh," Mokuba responded, swatting at Jou as if he were a particularly annoying fly. "Go 'way. Wanna sleep."

"Where's Seto?"

"Don' know. Don' care." The raven-haired teen snuggled deeper into the sleeping Otogi's lap.

Casting a quick glance at his watch (2 AM), Jonouchi trotted down the cold, moonlit hallway in search of Seto. "Seto," he called softly "Seto, where are you?"

Catching sight of a sliver of light underneath a doorway, he grinned. "Caught ya," he whispered victoriously, heading for the door in question.

"Hey, Seto, why are you—Seto?" Jonouchi glanced around the room, and, deeming it Seto-less was about to move on when—

"Wha's this?" He cradled the picture frame gently, studying the faded smiles of the people trapped behind that thin pane of glass. Mokuba and a tall, brunette boy with sparkling cerulean eyes, the elder with his arm slung around the younger's shoulders, grinning at the camera in a moment of frozen bliss. Jonouchi took a second to wonder why it had taken him a moment to recognize Seto's face, and then it struck him. It was because Seto never smiled.

He smirked, sure, that arrogant "I'll-sue-you-if-you-so-much-as-_breathe_-on-me" grin that he'd always secretly found endearing, in its own bizarre way. But he'd never given much thought to Seto's apparent lack of happiness. He always just assumed that Seto was stoic by nature.

But this picture belied his suspicions. For him to barely be recognizable when he smiled ... Jou found himself wondering what Seto would look like now, flashing those even white teeth in a grin. He couldn't picture it, and that scared him. Jonouchi's imagination had never failed him before.

_Seto,_ he thought miserably, running his fingertips over the dusty surface, leaving trails behind.

What was this room, anyways? He hadn't seen much evidence in the Kaiba manor that anyone lived here at all; the walls were free of photographs, no indication that the Kaiba brothers even existed. It was strange to compare this cold, icy fortress to a home; his own, while admittedly not perfect, had been littered with baby albums, pictures, self-portraits drawn in Crayola scribbles from back when Jou was in primary school. Kaiba's house was so ... impersonal.

But this room ... row after row of picture albums lined the bookcase that engulfed an entire wall, file cabinets and boxes were stacked against another. A battered-looking shelf held a myriad of old arts-and-crafts projects, all bearing the name 'Mokuba' in hastily scrawled kanji. It was as if their memories had been packed into this tiny room, shunted to the side and forgotten.

But none of the projects belonged to Seto. Of the picture frames scattered on the shelves, very few included him. And the albums ... Jou pulled a thick book bound in crimson leather off a shelf at eye level and leafed through report cards, grinning photographs of Mokuba, tiny locks of raven-dark hair, and a few illustrations by the younger Kaiba. It was almost as if Seto had never had a childhood, as if he'd never really existed. He remembered vaguely a smaller, more panicked version of Mokuba crying, telling him that onii-chan wasn't bad, not really. It wasn't his fault he was so cruel, it was their father's. He wondered why he hadn't cared at the time.

It was just ... Seto always seemed so unshakable, so solid. Sure, he was crazy, obsessed with revenge and possibly psychotic, but he'd never imagined that Seto's past could have held such horrors. And now it seemed he'd opened the proverbial can of worms; he was learning more than he ever wanted to know.

Jou slid the book back on the shelf and his eyes fell on a thin black one, bound in silk and secured with a delicate silver lock. A lock that was easily snapped off the cover, apparently serving decorative purposes better than security ones. Jou glanced up and found at least another six or seven of these identical albums, shoved between the thicker leather-bound ones, as if someone had shoved them there and forgotten them. He flipped open the book, screamed, and nearly dropped it.

Well, it looked like he'd found Seto's albums.

_Yes, yes, a cliffie. I'm horrible, I know. _


	5. All Seem to Say

Chapter Five: All Seem to Say 'Throw Cares Away'

This ... this was sick. There was no other way to describe it. Driven by a morbid sense of fascination, Jou sank to the floor, staring at the book in his hands as if it were the Holy Grail itself. "Oh, God," he moaned, covering his mouth with one hand, feeling nauseous.

It was Seto. Young, thin, childlike still, eyes wide in his haunted face, small white teeth clamped down on his full lower lip.

He was naked. Bruises marred his alabaster skin, long, jagged slashes decorated his arms and chest like some kind of demonic war paint. A heavy collar was locked around his neck, his wrists fettered above his head with thick chains, knees clamped tightly together as if he strove to preserve some sense of dignity. Tears streaked his cheeks, spilling from those huge cerulean eyes, panic evident in the stiff set of his shoulders, the rigidity of his small muscles.

Jonouchi could feel his last meal coming back up. He fought the nausea and turned the page. Page after page, picture after picture, bruise after cut after tear, after ... he let out a strangled moan. In some of them, Seto wasn't alone. Powerful, evil, disgusting hands grasped at him, dirtying the delicate body, touching him in places no fourteen-year-old boy should be touched. What the hell was this? Advertising?

"Shit," Jou whispered, reaching up for another slim volume, wrenching the lock off this one as well. His eyes fell on the date burned in orange at the bottom corner of the picture and snatched up the first book, comparing the years. This book was two years older; Seto would have been sixteen.

_I knew him then_, Jou thought, grimacing. _He never ... I never realized ... _

These pictures were quite different from the last book. Seto wasn't a kid anymore, that much was evident. Sleek, supple muscles just barely visible beneath pale, perfect skin. No cuts, no bruises this time. Just Seto, twisted into impossible positions.

Seto wasn't scared anymore. Jonouchi cringed at the hungry, seductive look in the boy's eyes, his delicate hands roaming over his _own_ body, a coy smile flashed at the camera. If there were chains they were purely for theatrical effect; Seto seemed much more enthusiastic this time around. Seto on a bed of rose petals, fingers splayed over his lean stomach; Seto reclining in a bathtub, legs spread as if he welcomed violation, wrists crossed above his head and bound with a strip of blue silk. Jonouchi was going to throw up.

_He wasn't kidding,_ Jonouchi thought. _He was ... he didn't ...hell._ Did Seto _enjoy_ being used? Jonouchi knew that some people had a taste for pain that bordered on bizarre, but Seto had never seemed the type ...

"_Maybe a masochist? Maybe I liked being fucked while he held me down, hm?"_

_Did he mean that?_ Jonouchi shook his head fiercely. _Don't be stupid,_ he told himself. _Seto's not like that. But maybe—_

"_I don't like cameras. Get that damn thing out of my face._

Maybe he had a reason for that ... ?

But ... that smile ...

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Jonouchi's head snapped around. Seto was standing frozen in the doorway, looking as if he were either about to cry, or snap Jonouchi's neck. Just in case Seto leaned in favour of the latter, Jou scrambled to his feet, holding the book like a shield in front of him. "I—I jus'—I saw a light an' I thought you were in here, an' I—"

"Don't you have any sense of decency?" Seto growled, stalking over to him. Jonouchi cringed, waiting for the inevitable blow, still clutching the book desperately. "This is not a museum! My life isn't on display here for your viewing pleasure!"

"I was jus' curious!" Jou protested.

"Just curious?" All of Seto's rage vanished and his shoulders slumped, as if he were too exhausted to even support his own weight. "Now you know. Are you happy?"

"I—I don' understand—" Jou glanced down at the book, cheeks flushed. "Is dis—were you—"

"I told you I was his whore, didn't I? You're the idiot who wouldn't listen to me. I wasn't being dramatic, Jonouchi." Seto slid to the floor, clutching his knees to his chest in a bizarrely childlike manner. He closed his eyes, resting his forehead on his knees. "I was. I am. I don't know."

"Why would you keep dese?" Jonouchi didn't understand why he hadn't burned them, or at the very least thrown them away.

"They remind me."

"Of what?"

"Who—what—I am." Seto couldn't meet his eyes. "Everyone needs to be dragged back to reality once in a while." He ran his thumb over his dragon-bracelet. "I just need a stronger reminder than most people, that's all. It's so easy to be arrogant when you're rich."

"Did you—I mean—"

"Spit it out, mutt. I don't have time to listen to you stutter."

"You—" Jou glanced down at the book. "You didn' exactly seem upset—"

Seto lifted his head, giving the stammering blonde a quizzical look. "What are you talking about?"

"Did you like it?"

Seto winced.

"You did," Jonouchi whispered in awe and horror. "Didn' you?"

"No, I—"Seto bit down on his lower lip, hard. "I hated it at first, but after awhile—it kept me sane. How—how could I have had so much? I was a poor orphan who cheated his way to the top. I didn't deserve—"

"You didn' deserve _dis_!" Jou stabbed the page with a furious finger. "You were a kid! Jus' a lost, lonely scared _kid_!" He could feel furious tears threatening to spill down his flushed cheeks; he'd never realized how much Seto hated himself.

"It was just easier not to fight. Sometimes he was even nice to me."

"Who?"

"Father."

"Shit ... " Jou sank to his knees in front of Seto, wrapping awkward arms around him, holding the brunette to his chest. "Dat's what it took for him t' be nice t' you? Sleepin' with his employees? Dat's sick."

"I guess," Seto mumbled into Jou's collarbone. "He was just trying to make me strong."

"D'you feel strong now, Seto?"

Seto let out a strangled whimper that wrenched at Jou's heart. "No ... "

"Don' make excuses for a perverted old man. It was twisted, an' wrong, an' you didn' do anythin' to deserve dat. You understand me?"

"But Father—"

"—let his employees rape his son," Jou spat. "He's dead, Seto. Don' let him run your life anymore." Seto's arms snaked around Jou's waist, holding him tightly, as if he was afraid to let go.

"I'll try."

A/N: Aww, isn't that sweet? Is this turning into too much of a soap opera? I realize Kaiba is acting very un-Kaiba like, but he's been traumatized, and I envision him being scared and uncertain and slightly crazy. I mean, he's got to have other sides to him, sides that aren't cold and mean and cruel and standoffish. I like this angsty Kaiba.

"What do you mean, you're dating him?" Mokuba shot his brother an incredulous look. "You said he didn't deserve this stress. Do I even want to know what happened to change your mind?"

"We made passionate love for hours on the bathroom floor," Seto snapped sarcastically. "What the hell do you think?"

Mokuba held up his hands in defense. "Interrogation successfully terminated, onii-san."

"I just get the sense that telling him to leave me alone wouldn't do much good," Seto said, biting into the onigiri Mokuba offered him. "This is good."

"Thanks," Mokuba said, wiping his hand on the skirt of his apron. "Are they heading home?"

"Yeah," Seto said. "They've got work tomorrow, I guess. Christmas is over."

"Speaking of, did you ever give Jou his gift?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Never got the chance. I'll give it to him before he goes home."

"Make sure you do. He's bound to wonder why you gave everyone but him something." Mokuba shoved a plate of onigiri into Seto's hands. "Here. Be a charming host for once."

Seto arched an eyebrow at his younger brother. "I'm not already?"

Mokuba laughed and gave Seto a gentle shove on the shoulder.

"Thanks for putting up with us," Malik called, waving to Seto. Seto waved back at his 'friends' awkwardly, attempting a half-smile. "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas," Seto muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Hey, Jou—"

Jonouchi was struggling with the buttons on his army-green trenchcoat. "Wha?" He glanced up desperatly. "Help me?"

Seto sighed and fastened the buttons, trying to ignore his impulse to close the distance between them and kiss Jou. "There. Stupid mutt. What kind of idiot can't even fasten his coat properly?"

"Your kinda idiot," Jou responded roguishly, kissing him on the cheek. "Merry Christmas, Seto." Seto grabbed his arm.

"Wait."

"Na?" Jou looked confused. "I didn' steal yer silva or anyt'ing. I swear."

"I—your Christmas gift." Seto felt his cheeks flush. He was going to be terrible at this relationship thing, he could tell already.

"You didn' hafta."

"I know," he said, thinking of Mokuba and wondering what his little brother had bought. "Here." He shoved a silver box tied with green silk ribbon into Jou's hand.

"You're not really da romantic type, are ya?" Jou commented, untying the ribbon and tucking it into his pocket. He pried the top off of the box as best he could with glove-muffled fingers. (A/N: If any of you know how hard it is to do anything with gloves on ... ) "Wow, Kaiba—upscale insults."

He pulled out what was unmistakably a thin black leather dog collar, studded with tiny gems. "Tell me dese aren't diamonds?"

"They are," Mokuba said, startling Seto. "Pretty, no?"

"Kaiba, dis—dis is too much—" Jou fingered the silver name tag bearing "Jonouchi Katsuya" in gold-embossed kanji. A small sapphire winked at the top of the tag, a testament to the puppy's 'owner.'

"You don't like it?" Seto shot a glance at his brother, admiring his taste in jewelry for what was the first—and hopefully last—time.

"No, I—I love it. Thank you." Jou grinned at him and held the collar out to Seto. "Put it on me?"

Mokuba grinned and patted his brother on the back. "I'll leave you kids alone," he said, vanishing into the house.

Seto reached out with shaky fingers and buckled the collar around Jou's slim throat, adjusting the tag so it hung just above his collarbone. "It looks nice on you, pup."

Jou threw his arms around Seto's neck and kissed him, tongue sliding between Seto's lips and into his mouth. Seto returned the kiss eagerly, winding his long arms around Jou's waist. They stood like that for a while, enjoying the heat of each other's bodies in contrast to the sharp winter air. They broke apart and Seto wound Jou's scarf around his neck, brushing gentle fingertips over Jou's cheek. "Merry Christmas, pup."

"You too," Jou called, bouncing down the steps. "I'll call you!"

"You'd better," Seto replied good-naturedly, crossing his arms over his chest and watching his puppy bounding across the snow-covered yard.

Jou grinned as he slammed open the door of his apartment, singing loudly to himself, some song he'd picked up from watching too much late-night anime. "Who's in the forest strolling ... the birds and the bees sing Mo-mi-jiiii .... "He unbuckled the collar, admiring the way the jewels caught the light, before rubbing at the tag furiously in an attempt to polish it. "Wait, what's this?"

He turned the tag over, squinting to read the tiny kanji in the dim light. "If ... found ... please ... return ... to ... Kaiba ... Seto ... ? Kaiba, you bastard!" he laughed, collapsing on his bed, giggling. "You complete bastard ... "

On the other side of the city, Mokuba was dodging various objects Seto was flinging at him. "Ow, nii-chan," he whined as a book struck him in the temple.

"He's going to think I'm a complete pervert!"

"It goes along with the whole 'mutt' thing! It was a joke!"

"You've got a shitty sense of humour!"

"It was funny! Laugh, dammit!"

Seto's pillow hit him in the face. Mokuba tripped and fell flat on the floor, striking the carpet with a loud _thump_.

Seto laughed.

And so ends chapter five ... a little humour with your angst ... please review this and make Kaida happy. Puh-rease? (I support Engrish!)

Hey, you know what I never noticed? 'Kaida' looks remarkably like 'Kaiba,' only with a 'd' instead of a 'b.' I didn't intend that ... I just like the name Kaida. It means 'little dragon,' I think.


	6. Too Much Fluff?

Chapter Six

I hate this chapter. I really do. It's pointless, bad, and ... I dunno. It's kind of necessary, and bloody long, but it sets the stage for my next bout of angst. There's not a whole lot in this chapter, except a bit of Jou-angst in his dying father's hospital room.

This chapter is longer than any previous ones, but I didn't want to split it into two chapters and make you suffer more.

Oh, and there is an OC in this chapter. Not a Mary Sue; I wouldn't do that to you. But I needed a female character aside from Shizuka, since Anzu's in New York, so bear with me. She won't show up again, and she won't have any sort of romantic involvement with anyone, don't worry.

Suki no Hikari: Thank you for reviewing! Always lovely to hear from a new reviewer, if not a new reader. I'm glad you liked Momiji's song ... it was just too cute to not put in! (sings along with you)

Kumori Sakusha: Thanks for the review! Glad you still like it!

mandapandabug: (stares at you) Can you read minds? Must be, 'cause I know I haven't told anyone where this story is going ... don't worry, Jou will have his angst. He's too pretty not to.

setokaibawheeler: Love the name, first of all. Second, thanks for reviewing! Here's the update, and the next chapter will be up sometime tomorrow!

Firey Charizard: Thank you for such a lovely review! I'm glad no one's upset that Seto's starting to open up a bit ... their romance if progressing slowly, but it'll take off pretty soon. Oh, and I like the collar too! XP

Rosalyn Angel: I love the album-scene thing too. I thought it was a little overdramatic, but that's how I wanted it. My Jonouchi-ese is the best you've seen? Wai! You have no idea how happy that makes me! I'm glad you think I'm writing Seto well--he's a bloody arrogant bastard, it's hard to make him all traumatized and keep him in character ... oh, and I'm also glad you moticed the Furuba cameo! Momiji rocks! I have a hat that looks like his bunny-form ... big red eyes and black-tipped ears!

And to my sleepy Cali-baka: thanks, as always, for being a faithful reviewer. Oh, and I'm glad you think I'm a master of comedy ... "Satire" just begged to be written. (hugs you)

Ah, and in case anyone cares ... the winner of this ten review's fanart is Rolasyn Angel ... I just asked my little brother to point to the screen (he can't read) and that's what he picked. Leave me a request in your review, my dear.

!! Scene Change !!

"Welcome to Kame—Seto!" Jonouchi jumped up, swung his long legs over the counter and hurled himself at Seto. "What're you doin' here?"

"Am I early?" Seto asked, patting Jou awkwardly on the back. "Pup, people are staring."

"Screw 'em," Jou said, waving a dismissive hand. Seto shook his head and stepped away from Jonouchi, putting a respectable distance between the two. "Hey now, don' be like dat."

"The last thing we need is media coverage of our relationship," Seto said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Really, mutt, you could be a little more discreet." He had to turn away to pretend he hadn't seen the crushing disappointment on Jou's face.

"Seto, how are we supposed t' date if I can't touch you?"

"I didn't realize physical intimacy was such a necessary part of ... ah ... dating." He sounded reluctant to even vocalize it.

Jou's hurt expression melted quickly into rage. "I didn' realize you were so ashamed a' me."

"No, it's not—" Seto broke off, shaking his head. He grabbed Jonouchi by the waist and pulled him close, kissing him gently. "I'm not ashamed of you."

Jou supposed he was expected to pretend he hadn't noticed Seto glancing around to see if anyone was watching. But he would take what he could get, and he cuddled closer to Seto. "My shift ends in twenty minutes," he said. "Just ... I dunno ... look around da shop or somethin'."

"It's a game shop," Seto muttered. "I make games for a living. Most of the stuff in here is mine." Jou gave him a mock-glare.

"Dere's some stuff in here dat isn' games." He gestured to a wall of anime DVDs and a few bookshelves stacked with manga. "Go read somethin'."

"I ... fine," Seto agreed. Jou waved him away as a customer tapped him on the shoulder.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes, I'm looking for ... "Seto stopped listening, and wandered toward the manga.

He hadn't read much manga. He never had time, and it always seemed so ... childish. Consequently, he had no idea what any of these titles were. "Okane ga Nai?" he questioned out loud, picking up the slim volume. The boy on the cover was pretty, but not as pretty as Jonouchi, he decided. He flipped through the manga. The art wasn't bad. (A/N: Okane ga Nai, for you poor uninformed yaoi fans, is the Japanese name of No Money, possibly the best yaoi manga ever. Go check it out if you haven't read it. Just a warning; it gets pretty hardcore very fast, thus Seto's reaction.)

He settled himself into a chair and began to read.

"Okay, Seto, I'm ready—what the hell're you readin'?" He glanced quizzically at Seto's flushed cheeks, his wide eyes, the look of complete panic and embarrassment on his face. "Seto?"

"I—thought—manga—was—for—kids—" he managed to stammer out.

Jou pried the book from Seto's nerveless fingers and laughed when he read the title. "Not dis one."

"I—noticed—" Seto said, sounding completely traumatized.

Jou arched an eyebrow at him and handed the book back. "You alright?"

"They—they—were—"

"Seto, dis is a yaoi manga. It says 'boy's love' on the front. That didn' clue you in at all?"

"I—I didn't—"

Jou sighed, shaking his head. "Come on, it's not dat bad."

"Not that bad?" Seto asked incredulously. "They should put a warning on that!"

"Dey did," Jonouchi said, flipping the book over. "Read da back."

Seto glanced at it. "Oh."

Jou snorted and ruffled his hair. "C'mon, let's go."

!! Scene Change !!

"Jou? What's the matter?" Yuugi looked up from the book he was reading. His friend had spent the last five minutes wearing a hole in Yuugi's apartment floor, pacing back and forth, and had just collapsed into a chair. "You seem upset." He snapped the book closed.

"It's Seto," Jou intoned at the ceiling, head thrown back against the chair.

"What happened?"

"He freaks out ev'ry time I try t' touch 'im in public," Jou said. "If he wasn' gay, I'd think he was homophobic." Jou sat up. "What should I do?"

"Well, you've only been dating a month," Yuugi said. "Maybe he thinks you're taking things too fast?"

Jou fingered his collar, a nervous habit he'd developed. "I don' mean like makin' out wit' 'im. I mean he won' even let me hug 'im. Says he doesn' want media coverage."

"Oh," Yuugi said, nodding his head. "That makes sense."

"Hunh?"

Yuugi laughed; his friend really was cute when he was confused. "Seto's spent his whole life in the media spotlight," he explained. "It's a rare week when there isn't at least one article in a newspaper somewhere about him. Can you imagine how bad it would be if the press got wind of your relationship?"

"I'd hardly call it a relationship. We've had dinner what, four times?" Jou sighed, running a hand through his already-mussed blonde hair. "You sayin' I'm bad fer business?"

"Not ours," Yuugi assured him with a smile. "By the way, thanks for filling in for ... what was her name?"

"Akani, I think." Jou shrugged. "No problem."

"Anyways, about Seto. I think you should just take things slowly, let him get used to the idea of dating a man—"

"He's _gay_!"

"—and let him deal with the media aspect," Yuugi continued, ignoring Jou. "He'll be fine.

!! Scene Change !!

It was ironic that that particular conversation sprung into his head at that exact moment. Jou crossed his arms firmly over his chest. "No."

"Mutt, come on."

"No."

"You're acting like a spoiled child."

Jou glared at Seto.

"What do I have to do, beg?"

"Entertaining as dat would be, it's not gonna help."

"Come on, it's not like anything will happen. Nanashi-san's my secretary, for God's sake." Seto wrapped his arms around his puppy's waist, nuzzling his throat. Jou didn't relax into the embrace like he normally did; he remained stiff and immobile.

"Why the hell're you going to dinner wit' her den?"

"Because I need a date for the executive dinner."

This was entirely the wrong thing to say. Jou shoved him roughly away, copper eyes sparking into angry flames. "What, you're not dating _me_? I'm not good enough?"

Seto winced as Jou turned his back, every pore radiating discontent. "No, that's not what I meant—"

"What _did_ you mean den, Kaiba?"

_Shit. He's calling me Kaiba. Very, very bad sign. _"I just don't think it would go over too well if it got out that I was dating a ..." He broke off.

"A man?" Jou whirled around. "You think it would be bad for business if the newspapers found out you were dating a man? Is _that_ what you're trying so hard not to say?" Jou was furious, Kaiba noted. His accent was gone again. "Maybe I should solve your problem for you, Kaiba! I'll save you from ever having to date _this_ man again!" He grabbed his jacket and stalked towards the door.

"Jou—"

"Save it, Kaiba! I don't want to hear it!" Jou slammed the door, and Seto could clearly hear his footsteps crunching in the last of the winter snow.

"Fine!" Seto hollered at his retreating back. "I don't need this, mutt! I don't need you!" The brunette collapsed on his couch, burying his hands in his hair. Well, he'd managed to fuck that up pretty thoroughly.

"Moku—" he called, before remembering that Mokuba wasn't here, that he'd gone back to school. He was looking forward to Mokuba graduating; he was sick of being alone in this house.

That was cause for worry. He'd _always_ preferred solitude to company. What was the matter with him?

He picked up the phone and dialed Mokuba's dorm room.

Ring.

Ring.

_Come on, I need to talk to you,_ Seto thought.

Ring.

"Moshi moshi?"

"Who the hell is this?" Seto snapped rudely, not precisely meaning to. That was _definitely_ not his little brother.

"Seto! How nice to hear from you!"

"Otogi? What are you doing in my brother's dorm? And how did you know it was me?"

"I could recognize your dulcet tones anywhere, my darling," Otogi relied in an overly-dramatic tone of voice.

"Mokuba finally got caller ID, huh?"

Otogi laughed. "Yeah. And as for what I'm doing here ... I'll tell you when you're older."

Seto snorted. "Put Mokuba on."

"Sorry love, Mokuba's ... otherwise occupied at the moment. A bit harder, would you?" he asked, obviously not talking to Seto. "Ahn ... yeah, that's it ... mmm ... " he moaned.

Seto glared at the phone, as if it, and not Otogi, was the cause of his sudden nausea.

"Ryuji!" He heard Mokuba in the background, then what sounded like a brief scuffle, then Mokuba picked up the phone. "Hey, nii-chan."

"I don't want to know," Seto said. "If this is a bad time, I'll call back."

"No," Mokuba said, and he could imagine his brother glaring at Otogi. "I _was_ giving Otogi—"

"I said I didn't want to know!"

"—a back massage," Mokuba finished. "What were you thinking?" He was toying with his brother, and Seto knew it.

"Never mind. I need advice."

"Lemme guess. It's about Jou."

"Yes."

"What happened? Hold on—"He held the receiver away from his mouth, although Seto could still hear quite clearly. "Otogi, leave my pants alone. Sorry," he said, returning to the conversation with his brother. "So—"

"I think I fucked up," Seto admitted, leaning back into the couch.

"Not surprising. I'm glad you made it this far without a fight. What happened?"

"I told him I was taking Nanashi-san to the executive dinner with me, and he got mad."

"Well, duh," Mokuba said. "What'd you go and do that for?"

"Because I needed a date?" Seto asked, knowing full well how lame his logic sounded.

"You're dating Jonouchi,"

"I can't take him to a executive dinner."

"Why not?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because it'll be swarming with reporters?"

"You didn't tell him that?" Mokuba asked, aghast.

"Of course I did. Why?"

"Oh, nii-chan ... "

!! Scene Change !!

"Hey, Dad," Jonouchi said, easing into his father's room and closing the door behind him. "How're ya doin'?"

Jonouchi Kakuei made no reply.

He was asleep, Jou hoped, and not dead, lying on a narrow hospital cot, covered in a spiderweb of wires and tubes, running to various machines that were, most likely, all that kept him alive. Jou pulled up an oh-so-comfortable plastic chair and sat in it, taking his father's hand.

It hurt, seeing how much Kakuei had deteriorated in the last few months. Kakuei had always been big, not fat but strong, powerful. A sharp contrast to his skinny, pretty son. Jou's lips twitched in a wry smile. Kakuei had always been ashamed of his son's bishounen-like good looks.

But the hand that Jonouchi clutched to his chest wasn't the heavy fist he remembered slamming into the side of his head so many times as a child. It was pale, fragile, an old man's hand. The skin hung loose and slack, the knobby fingers curled inward, as if his father didn't even have the strength to keep them open.

"I think I get it now," Jou said quietly, perfectly aware that his father couldn't hear him. What he had to say needed to be said, even if Kakuei wasn't aware of it. "Why you used t' drink all da time. Why you hit me."

His father hadn't precisely been the abusive drunk that everyone made him out to be (A/N: coughchokeFANFICAUTHORScough). Sure he had problems with alcohol, and yeah, he roughed Jou up a bit when he was really wasted. But the next morning Jou would always wake up in his own bed, no matter where he'd collapsed the previous night, bandaged and clean, with a bowl of steaming miso soup on his nightstand and a letter of apology from his father.

In short, Kakuei wasn't a terrible father.

But Jou in his teen years, being young and angry, had become bitter, spending more and more time away from home, virtually living with his gang. He remembered countless times Kakuei trying to apologize, only to have Jou slam the door in his face, screaming that he was a horrible father, that he wished Kakuei was dead, and pretending he hadn't seen his father's face fall.

Eventually Jou left, and Kakuei stopped trying.

"I ... think I understand. You really loved Mom, didn' ya? It hurt when she left, and you couldn' handle dat. And then da lawyers, makin' me live wit' you ... I was so angry about dat. But I neva stopped t' think how bad it hurt you to look at me and see Mom's face, Mom's hair, Mom's eyes. Shizuka woulda been better off livin' wit' you ... maybe you wouldn' a' drank so much if it weren' for me." Jonouchi bowed his head. "I'm gonna miss ya, old man."

He wiped away the tears prickling at his eyes with his jacket sleeve, sniffling. "I know what it feels like now," he confessed with a small, nervous smile. "I know what it's like t' love someone so much dat it hurts, righ' here—"he clutched at his heart. "an' dey don't want you around." A tear wound its way down his cheek. "But I think we're gonna work through dis," he said. "I hope.

"I know you were neva comfortable wit' me datin' other guys." That was the understatement of the century; Jou still remembered the beating he'd gotten when Kakuei had caught him making out with his then-boyfriend on the couch. "Guess I shoulda told you. Maybe you wouldn' a' been so shocked. But I was scared, Dad. Maybe you can understand dat? I was afraid dat you would throw me out. Dat you wouldn't love me anymore. I know we neva talked about it again after dat, and I started datin' girls, jus' t make you happy. I wanted you to be proud a' me.

"But now—I can' pretend I'm straight anymore, Dad. I've found someone I maybe wanna spend my life with—and it's a guy.

"You know him. Ev'ryone knows him. I'm datin' Kaiba Seto," he said, rolling the unfamiliar words on his tongue with a juvinile sense of pride. "He's not a bad guy, Dad. I think you'd like 'im. He's so different than I firs' thought, though. I hated 'im when I firs' met 'im. He was cocky, arrogant, cold ... in short, he was a complete asshole.

"But I stayed at his place over Christmas, and I found out a lot about 'im. He was abused when he was a kid. Not like me, his stepfather was much worse den you could eva be. You neva woulda let anyone rape me, but dat's what Seto's stepfather did. He let his employees rape his son." Jonouchi shuddered.

"An' now—Seto's scared, and he doesn' want t' admit it. I think I dragged up a lot a' painful memories dat he'd rather forget. I didn' mean to, but I want him to get better and hidin' everythin' won' help.

"He told me today dat he's goin' to dinner wit' a girl, and he doesn' see anything wrong wit' it. He needs a date for his company's executive dinner. It's not like I really wanted to go or anythin', but it kinda hurts dat he didn' even ask."

Jou jumped when he heard the door click closed behind him. "Shizuka!"

"Onii-chan!" She hugged him tightly around the waist.

"How much a' dat did you—I mean, I wasn'—I didn' think anyone was dere."

"Is it true, onii-chan? You're really dating Kaiba? Mokuba told me, but I didn't believe him!"

"Yeah, it's true. I think." Jou cast a forlorn look at his father's slumberin body. "I wanted to tell Dad, but he's sleepin'."

"I think he heard you," Shizuka said, laying a hand on her brother's shoulder.

"Nah. If he'd a' heard me, he'd be yellin' about how no son a' his is gonna grow up t' be a fag. Little late now," Jou said with a grin, though his heart wasn't in it.

"Oh, onii-chan, he'll be alright. He just wants you to be happy."

"Think so?" Jou asked, clenching his father's hand. "Maybe he does."

"I know so. Now come on, we're going shopping."

Jou blinked. "What?"

Shizuka grinned. "Well, you don't have anything suitable for a formal dinner, now do you? Come on, before the stores close!" She grabbed Jou's hand, pulling her startled brother to his feet.

"But—I'm not goin'."

"Oh, yes you are! Mokuba called me, and he said that Seto felt really bad about your fight, and that he tried to call you but you left your cell at his house." Jou frowned and patted his pockets. She was right.

"Ah, damn," he said. "What if Yuug tries t' call?"

"Look, Yuugi can run the store by himself. He did it before you stated working there. He'll be fine."

"So, Seto seriously said he wants t' take me?"

_More or less,_ Shizuka thought. "Yep!" she replied. It was a good thing her brother was so gullible.

Jou grinned. "What're we waitin' for?" He kissed his father on the forehead. "Bye, Dad. Love ya."

Shizuka ushered him out of the room, pausing to giver her father a wink. "You alright, Dad?"

Kakuei opened his eyes. "Better than I've been in a while."

"Shizuka! What're you waiting for?" Jou was already halfway down the hall.

"You're not angry?"

"He's so happy, it's hard to be upset. I'm not angry."

Shizuka smiled. "Bye, Dad."

"Goodbye, Shizuka."

!! Scene Change !!

"That looks good on you, onii-chan."

"I look like some sorta game show host." Jou winced when he glanced at the price tag. "It's expensive."

"Oh, come on, onii-chan. I know you've got more money that most people will ever see in their lifetimes. Kame isn't exactly a suffering business."

Jou grinned. "Yeah," he agreed. "But I'm so used t' bein' poor that it hurts t' pay dis much for a suit."

"Well, you need one. You're a successful business owner. Start dressing like one." She handed him a green silk tie. "Here, put this on."

He glanced down at the tie in despair. "Shizuka ... I don' know how."

She stifled a laugh. "You've never worn a tie before?"

"Not for years," he answered, looping the material around his neck. "An' even den, I had Anzu or Ryou do it for me."

"That's kind of sad," she said, surveying her brother's near-success at choking himself. "I don't know how to do it either."

He growled and untangled the tie. "I'll jus' have Seto tie it."

"No!" Shizuka yelled without meaning to. _He doesn't even know you're coming, if you show up and ask him to tie your tie he'll probably choke you with it!_ "Here, I'll get a salesperson to do it."

!! Scene Change !!

"Shizuka ... where are we?"

"Nanashi-san's house, of course!" Jou blinked. Seto's secretary? Why were they—oh, shit.

"You and Mokuba planned dis all along, didn' you?"

Shizuka froze, trying to keep her expression blank. "W—why would you think that, onii-chan?"

"Because you're an awful liar?" He shook his head. "Shizuka, are you nuts? Please, tell me dis was all Mokuba's idea."

"Well, sort of," she admitted, avoiding her brother's eyes. "I mean, he did call me, I wasn't lying about that. And Seto did feel bad about your fight."

"But you tol' me—!"

"No, onii-chan," she said, grinning roguishly, in an unconscious imitation of her brother. "I never told you he wanted you to go. Not really. I jut sort of ... let you assume the best."

"...You're lucky I love you," Jou growled, running nervous fingers through his golden hair.

"Stop that, you're messing it up." Shizuka poked and prodded his hair back in place, giving him and admonishing glare.

"Shizuka, I can' ... "Jou blushed. "Look, I can' just show up and expect him t' ... Nanashi-san would probably be pissed at me, makin' her miss her chance to date Seto ... "

"On the contrary, my dear," an unfamiliar voice said, "I'm more than happy to help."

Jou whirled around. A thin, pretty brunette woman lounged in the doorway, hazel eyes sparkling behind fashionable glasses. She was wearing casual clothes, jeans and a sweatshirt, and her hair was unbound, flowing about her shoulders. Jou hadn't been to Seto's office many times, and she looked different without her work clothes and makeup, but he was pretty sure that this was the infamous Nanashi-san. "Pleased to meet you, Jonouchi-kun" she said, bowing politely.

He bowed back. "I apologize for my sister," he said. "She overreacts sometimes ... I should be goin' ... "

"Don't be ridiculous, Jonouchi-kun. Do you prefer Katsuya?"

"Jonouchi's fine, thanks. Or even Jou. Really, Nanashi-san, I appreciate your concern, but—"

"But nothing, dear," she said. "Please, come inside. Who did your hair? Good Lord, we've got some work to do. And not much time. He's picking me up in half an hour." She clapped her hands. "Project!"

Jou had the good sense to be alarmed.

!! Scene Change !!

"No."

"Come on, you need something to accent those gorgeous eyes." Nanashi was having entirely too much fun dressing Jou; she'd already managed to "casually" arrange his suit, the translation being that the pants were too low on his hips to be decent and the shirt was partially unbuttoned ("Got to show off that pretty ... uh ... collar?").

"Onii-chan, she's right."

"I. Am. Not. Wearin'. Eyeliner."

"At least some mascara? Come on, it's waterproof."

Nanashi had just managed to make the top of Jou's hit list. "I said _no_!"

"And I'm not taking that for an answer." She gestured to Shizkua. "Hold him still."

"Wha? You're fucking kidding me—ow!" His dear, sweet sister hand grabbed double handfuls of his precious hair, effectively stilling him. His eyes watered. "Shizuka, dat hurts ... "

"So let me put the makeup on you, pretty-boy," Nanashi said with a grin.

"You're a sick, sick woman," Jou sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Fine. Shizuka, lay off the hair." She released him. "Do your damndest," he told Nanashi.

"I intend to."

!! Scene Change !!

"Nanashi-san? Why aren't you dressed?" Seto stood awkwardly in the doorway, peering around as if he expected another, fully-dressed Nanashi-clone to appear, perhaps from a closet or something.

"You look lovely, sir," she said, waving him in. "Please. Welcome to my humble abode. Have a seat."

"Nanashi-san, I really don't have time—"

"I said _have a seat_," she commanded. Seto was strongly reminded of the old adage, "hell hath no fury like a heavenly maiden." Nanashi-san frightened him sometimes.

Needless to say, Seto sat.

"I'm afraid I won't be able to make it tonight, sir," Nanashi-san apologized, looking for all the world the very picture of apology. "I did, however, manage to secure a date for you at the last moment. I hope that won't be a problem?"

"But—"

"I knew you'd understand." She smiled at him. "Shizuka?"

_Shi—do I know her? Wait, that's the mutt's sister, isn't it?_ _I can't date his sister!_

Shizuka opened the door leading directly to Nanashi's bedroom. "Ta-da!" she exclaimed.

Seto was very, very confused. There were two women in the apartment, neither of which were dressed for a formal dinner, and he was dangerously close to being late. "Is this some sort of joke? Nanashi-san, I expected better of you." Seto got to his feet. "I have to leave."

"Wait," Nanashi protested. "We worked so hard on this, and you haven't even seen your date yet! Jou-kun, come out dear."

Oh, no. Oh _hell_ no.

He couldn't take Jonouchi. There was no way; the press would be all over him. It could destroy his reputation. His life. Everything he'd worked so hard for.

But _damn_ the puppy looked sexy.

The black suit appeared to have been made for him, clinging perfectly to every subtle curve and angle, the black silk shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal his slim throat and the collar hanging around it. His deep green tie was loosened casually, the jacket hanging nicely on his shoulders. He shuffled his feet nervously, avoiding Seto's gaze as if he was embarrassed.

"Pup ... you ... look ... is that _makeup?_"

Jou flushed. "It wasn' my idea."

The makeup only accented Jou's clearly non-Japanese looks, making him appear more exotic than he ever had. If he was pretty before, he was gorgeous now. His eyes were lined in black kohl, his golden eyelashes tipped with black mascara. His lips glimmered with a pale pearl sheen, making them that much more tempting.

"You—uh—" Seto was stammering and he knew it.

"I know I look stupid," Jou snapped. "Can we just pretend I don' look like a teenage girl?"

"No, it—uh—looks nice." Seto rubbed the back of his neck, obviously unused to giving compliments.

Jou gave him a bewildered look. "You're a strange one, Kaiba."

"Come on, kids, you're going to be late!" Nanashi chirped, ushering them out the door. "Have fun!"

They exchanged startled looks as she slammed the door on them. "So ... "Jou said, offering Seto his arm. "Shall we?"


	7. Angel

Chapter Seven:

Okay, don't expect daily updates like this ... I've been under house-arrest, what with this hurricane and all ... and now it's over. School. Woot.

So, I'm almost rabidly writing this story, to placate the plot bunnies gnawing on my ankles. They're very hard to please.

Ookay, so I'm at 21 reviews now! Yay! The next fanart piece will go to Calico Avengi; my little brother has spoken. Sorta. He actually just pointed at the screen again. Oh well.

So, Cali-baka, just leave you request in the next review and I'll get wokin' on that ...

SetoKaibaWheeler: Yesyes, Seto marrying Jou. That would be so cute. Illegal, but cute. Stupid marriage laws. They're depriving me of pretty yaoi boys in wedding dresses. (cries)

Kumori Sakusha: Y'know, I'm really considering doing a fanart series for this story ... it's pretty long ... would anyone be interested in that?

Calico Avengi: WAI! (bounces around with you) Am I that predictable? Augh, I don't wanna be boring! (spazzes) Fanart? Pretty fanart. Meh.

Firey Charizard: Well, let's just assume the the reporters have gotten used to Seto's death-glare. And his reputation seems pretty important to him, so ... (shrugs). Yes, they're going now. But I can't just let the boys enjoy a party quietly, y'know? We gotta have something interesting happen. Oh, and I tried really hard to make Jou's father rough, but not abusive. I think we've got enough of that with Seto's stepfather and all ... thanks for noticing! I feel original!

mandapandabug: What? Did I say I hated you? I'm sorry, I didn't mean it! I like stories like that too, I just thought there would be too much if I did it in this story too! I have no problem with ANY type of angsty story! Except Anzu angst. I'm not a huge fan of her, but whatever! (hugs you) I love you! Don't be upset! (blinks at VIH with wide, teary eyes) You don't like me much, do you? I'm sorry! (bows) I apologize! GAH! (explodes)

"Kaiba-san! How have you been?"

"Kinoshita-san, glad you could make it." Seto bowed respectfully to the smiling elderly man. "This is my friend, Jonouchi Katsuya, co-owner of the Kame Game Shops."

"Hey," Jou grinned, bowing.

"Kinoshita-san is a senior executive of Kaiba Corp."

"Pleased t' meet you, sir."

"Ah, no, the pleasure is all mine, young man. I don't believe I've ever met you before ... ?"

"Ah, no, well, you wouldn' have. Not really one for parties ya know?"

"Mutt," Seto hissed when Kinoshita had left. "Do you think you can manage to speak in proper Japanese? I know you can do it."

"Why? Dere somethin' wrong wit' my accent?"

"Not if you're looking for a job in the yakuza," Seto snapped. "Please, these are high-class people."

Jou shook his head and sighed. "Lighten up, Seto. I'll be polite, okay?"

Seto gave him a quick, terse grin. "Thank you."

"You've been jumpy eva since we got here. You wanna tell me what's up?"

"I'm just surprised no one's asked why I brought my 'friend' instead of a date."

"Maybe they figured out you're a fag?"

"Please pup, you're not helping."

"Sorry. Couldn't resist."

"Kaiba-san?"

"What's the matter?" Seto turned to glance at the waiter who'd spoken, managing to nearly scare the poor boy to death with an unintentional glare.

"H—here," the boy stammered, shoving a martini into Kaiba's hands. "F—from him," he whimpered, gesturing to a man seated at the bar. He took off.

"Geez, what'd you do to—Seto?"

Seto had frozen, the glass slipping from his nerveless fingers. Jou reached out to grab it before it smashed on the floor, and managed to slosh the alcohol all over his hands. Wiping them on a napkin he grabbed from the buffet table, he straightened up. "Seto, what's wrong?"

"It's ... him ... "

"Him?" Jou peered at the man who'd presumably sent Seto the drink. "Who is dat?" He grabbed Seto's arm, startled to find that he was shaking fiercely. "Seto, talk t' me. Tell me who he is."

"Y—Yutou—"

"Kaiba-kun!" The man strode towards them, arms open as if he was about to embrace Seto. He had a cheerful grin plastered on his handsome face, but something about him made Jou's skin crawl. "It's been so _long_, my boy, how have you been?"

Seto could only stare at him, wide-eyed, breath hitching in his throat. He took a step backwards, nearly crushing Jou's foot.

Yutou wasn't the monster Jou had expected. He was a relatively good-looking man, appearing to be about in his middle to late thirties, blonde hair cut boyishly long and barely touched with gray. He was about Seto's height, which translated to a head taller than Jonouchi, but broader of shoulder than either of them. A demure gold chain and matching signet ring were the only apparent signs of wealth, save for the obviously-expensive cut and material of his suit, but Jou doubted most people looked that closely.

"What are you doing here?" Seto managed at last, barely above a whisper. Jou kept a firm, almost possessive grip on his arm, as if daring Yutou to touch what was his.

"I'm a major shareholder in Kaiba Corp now, my dear. What's the matter? You don't look happy to see me at all."

"I'm surprised, needless to say. I know you weren't invited."

"Ah, but being a shareholder does open certain windows of opportunity, Kaiba-kun. Let's just say I have an acute interest in your future."

"Why?"

"After all the hard work I put into teaching you? I was your father's best friend, I watched you grow from a skinny, awkward preteen into a ruthless, calculating machine. You're somewhat of an investment for me, Kaiba-kun." He reached out to caress Seto's cheek and the CEO flinched away.

"Don't touch him," Jou growled, stepping between Seto and Yutou.

"The puppy barks so fiercely, for being so small," Yutou remarked with a grin, and Jou bit back a snarl. Dammit, what was with all these dog jokes?

"Small or not, I can still kick your ass, old man."

"Watch it, punk," Yutou said, still smiling. "Your master and I have business to attend to. Go on and play now, be a good boy."

"Like hell."

"Pup ... go. I'll be fine."

Jou stared at Seto. "You serious? After what he—"

"Go. Now."

"Alrigh', alrigh' I'm goin.'" But he stood not twenty feet away, sipping a glass of wine and watching them warily over the rim. Seto suspected it wouldn't have taken more than a touch from Yutou for Jou to attack him; Seto couldn't have that. He didn't want the party disrupted, didn't want to have to explain why his 'friend' was beating a major shareholder to a bloody pulp.

"Clingy, isn't he?" Yutou commented. "Pretty though."

"Stay away from him," Seto hissed, blue eyes fierce and deadly.

"Fine, fine. I'll stay away from your pretty little boytoy if we can come to an agreement. Have a seat, please." He gestured to two plush chairs, a little away from the crowd.

"What sort of agreement?" Seto settled himself in the chair.

"Is this how you treat an old friend after seven years? Come on now, don't be so mean."

"We were never friends, Yutou. Let me put it this way: I hate you."

"Such strong words!" Yutou wiped away a false tear, and Seto wondered if he'd been taking acting lessons from Pegasus. They certainly had the same mannerisms.

"Yutou, you'd better start talking very quickly before I have security throw you out."

"Fine. Wouldn't want to cause a fuss, now would we dear?"

"Don't call me that," Seto snapped, but Yutou ignored him.

"I've been watching you for a while, Kaiba-kun."

"That's not precisely comforting."

"You know, your father wanted me to take care of you. He would have been so ashamed to see what you've made Kaiba Corp into. I mean honestly, a game company?"

"What's it matter to you?"

"I'm sure he would want the _old_ Kaiba Corp restored back to its former glory."

"I'm making three times what Gozaborou did. Don't patronize me, Yutou, I know you. You don't give a fuck about the company. What do you really want?"

"You always were _so_ perceptive, Kaiba-kun. Alright, fine. You want honesty, you'll get it." He leaned forward and Seto found himself unable to tear his gaze away from those hypnotic hazel eyes. "I want you, Kaiba."

"Hell," Kaiba whispered. "Don't you get it? I'm in control now, Yutou. Gozaborou isn't calling the shots anymore, and if you think I'm going to willingly let you—"

"You've never been in control, Kaiba-_kun_. You're no different now than when you were sixteen. You're a scared little kid who's somehow stumbled into the big leagues, and you've got no idea what you're doing."

"I'm twenty-three," Seto protested, knowing the logic was lame. Yutou was right. Even though Gozaborou had been dead for years, he was still controlling Seto's life. He was the reason Seto couldn't get close to anyone, the reason he couldn't let Jou touch him. The reason he woke up every morning and could barely manage to get out of bed.

"You're not stupid, Kaiba. A little naïve, perhaps, but not stupid. You never were."

"Thank you," Seto snarled.

"I'm offering you the chance to come willingly. If you refuse, I'm afraid I'll have to force you."

"I'm not a little kid anymore."

"Not on the outside," Yutou agreed. "But inside ... I bet it wouldn't take much for you to revert to that cowering, shivering little ball of misery you used to be."

"I do _not _cower."

"You were broken, Kaiba. I doubt you've managed to heal that yet. In fact, I doubt you've been able to have anyone in your bed in the last seven years. Am I right?"

"Don't pretend you know me," Seto growled.

"Hit the nail on the head, didn't I? Even that pretty little blonde boy—he likes you, you know."

"Shut up."

"And I'll bet you can't even let him touch you. You remember me, don't you? You remember what it felt like to have me on top of you ... inside you ... "

Seto flinched.

"You do, don't you? Have you told him yet?"

"He knows everything."

"Everything? He knows that you liked it?"

"I did _not—_"

"He knows how you begged, pleaded with me to fuck you?"

"I wasn't—"Seto cringed.

"You _did_, Kaiba. You begged me."

"Get out of here, Yutou. Before I call security." Seto couldn't meet his eyes.

"Ah, but surely you wouldn't want to cause a disturbance, and I assure you it will become one if you try to have me removed." He cast a glance at the reporters trying to blend into the crowd, trying to conceal notebooks and cameras. "I'm sure the press would _love _that."

Seto stood up. "If you won't leave, I will."

"So soon?" Yutou grinned up at him. Seto would have loved to punch him, just to wipe that smirk off of his face, but his arm hung useless at his side, refusing to obey him. He couldn't even control his own body.

"Fuck you, Yutou," he snarled, whirling around and stalking away.

"Afraid I can't let you do that, love," Yutou called after him.

"We're leaving."

"What? What happened?" Jou grabbed his arm and Seto jerked away.

"Don't touch me," he whispered. "Please. Let's go."

!! Scene Change !!

"Kaiba—mmph!" Jou had barely made it into the car when Seto grabbed him bodily and threw him down onto the limo seat. "What're you doin'?"

Kaiba's teeth closed on his throat and Jou choked. "Nnn ... Seto ... dat hurts ... "He could feel the blood vessels rupturing below the skin, bruising a mark of ownership on his neck.

"It's supposed to," Seto growled, claiming Jou's lips, sliding his tongue into the pup's mouth. He tasted like fear.

His hands busied themselves with Jou's shirt, undoing the buttons swiftly, although he was close to just ripping it off. Jou struggled, beating futilely at his powerful back with half-pinned arms. "Please," he panted when Seto finally broke away for air. "Please don't do this—"

"_Please don't—augh!" Sixteen-year-old Seto screwed his eyes shut, a high-pitched keen forcing its way from his throat as his body tried to adjust to Yutou's unrelenting thrust into him. "Ahhn," he whimpered, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes and spilling down his cheeks. "Please ... "_

"_More, little dragon?"_

"_No, please, no! Father, help me!"_

"_Your father's not coming," Yutou grunted, slamming into Seto again, deeper, harder than before. Seto cried out, fingernails digging into his palms. Yutou grabbed him by the wrist, examining the tiny crescent-shaped cuts._

"_Whatever gets you off," Yutou laughed, dropping his hand. "If I'd known you liked pain ... "_

_His teeth closed on Seto's ear, biting down hard. Seto screamed as the teeth pierced flesh, blood trickling down the side of his face, mingling with tears and sweat. "Yutou!"_

"_That's right, scream my name, little one." Another thrust and Seto's entird body went rigid, his back arching far beyond his flexibility. _

"_YUTOU!"_

"He's not here, Seto, it's alright. Just breathe. Breathe. We're almost home."

Seto was curled up against the door, shoved as far into the corner as he could go, though he couldn't remember how he'd gotten there. Jou's arms were around him, holding him close to his chest. "Don't let him, please, don't let him touch me, oh God it hurts oh God ... "

"Shh. It's okay, everythin's okay now. He's not here. Just me. I won' hurt you. Breathe."

"Inside me, he's inside me, please, make him go away ... "Seto buried his face in Jou's collarbone, shaking. He was babbling and he knew it, but the rational bit of his mind seemed to have abandoned him and he was crying like a child, shivering and scared. "It hurts ... "

"What does?"

"Everything ... "

"It's okay, babe. Calm down."

"Stitches, I need stitches, it's gonna scar, people will ask ... they'll know, _they'll know_ ... "

"What?" Seto was seriously starting to scare him. First he'd gone all rigid and shaky, and now he was rambling on about stitches. "What's gonna scar?"

"My ear, it's bleeding, it hurts, please, help me ... "

"Seto, nothin's wrong wit' your ear. It's not bleeding."

"He bit it, he bit me, I don't like pain, I don't like him, make him go away, make everything go away ... "Seto's fingers clenched spasmodically around Jou's shirt. "Please, just end it, I don't want this anymore, I'm sorry I'm sorry, please ... "

"Shh," Jou whispered, burying his face in Seto's hair so the shivering man couldn't see his tears. "It's okay now, he's gone ... " Seto's muscles went lax and he sagged against Jou.

"They can't find out," Seto mumbled. "Can't, I'm too weak, you won't tell them, will you? You won't, you can't tell them, please."

"Who?" Jou asked. It was plain that Seto didn't recognize him, didn't care who was holding him just as long as they weren't hurting him. "Tell who?"

"Yuugi-tachi," Seto answered. "Can't tell them. Promise?"

"Why not?"

"Ashamed, don't need their pity. Stronger than that. Strong."

"Of course you are," Jou said, tightening his grip on Seto, who was trembling so fiercely that Jou wondered if he was sick. Physically.

"Um ... driver?"

"Yes, sir?" The driver glanced in the rearview mirror. "Is Kaiba-san alright?"

"Uh, no, could you call his brother?"

"Mokuba-san? Of course, sir." The driver flipped open a small silver cell phone. "Do you want him on speakerphone?"

"Oh, uh, sure."

"Moshi moshi?"

"Mokuba!" Warm relief swept over him; he wouldn't have to handle Seto alone!

"Jou? What's wrong? It's eleven at night."

"It's Seto. I don' know wha's wrong wit' 'im. He's shaking and ranting, and I don' think he knows who I am. What do I do?"

"He had another attack?"

"Is that wha' this is? I dunno, I guess so! What should I do?"

"Take him home, call Aizawa-san, and ... keep him away from sharp objects. I'm heading over." He hung up.

"Jonouchi-san? Should I drop you off somewhere ... ?"

"You heard him. Take us home."

!! Scene Change !!

"Well, he's calm now." Aizawa ran a shaking hand through his graying hair.

"Calm?"

"I had to give him sedatives. He's conscious, but he's pretty out of it."

"Can I see him?

Aizawa shrugged. "I don't know if he'll be able to talk, but go ahead. Just don't let him up."

Jou nodded. "Sure."

"Jonouchi-san," Aizawa said, grabbing his arm. "Don't let him up. No matter what you see, no matter what he says. He'll just hurt himself if he isn't restrained."

"Fine." He pushed past the doctor and into the room.

It wasn't Seto's bedroom. It was cold and white and stark, and Seto looked so pitiful lying there strapped to a hospital bed. His eyes were closed, but as Jou approached, they snapped open.

"Hey, Seto. How ya doin'?"

It was a stupid question.

Seto grinned at him, a dreamy, drugged-up smile that scared Jou beyond all belief. "Hello," he said thickly, as if his brain couldn't quite force out such a complicated word. "I'm fine. How about you?"

"I'm ... a little shaken up. I'll be alrigh'."

"Have I seen you somewhere before?"

Jou winced; Aizawa had been telling the truth. "I'm your boyfriend. Jonouchi."

"No, no, that's not it. Have you ever been on TV? You look so familiar."

"We've been datin' for a month now."

"Liar. You're too pretty. No way you'd date me." Seto giggled. "Ugly, ugly Seto." Another deranged laugh.

"Ugly?"

"Ug—_ly_!" he said, accenting the last syllable. "You stupid or something?"

"You're not ugly."

"You're so nice. I swear I've seen you before. Hey," he said, as if struck by a sudden thought. "You're an angel, aren't you?"

"A—no, I'm not an angel."

"Hm." Seto frowned. "Come here, angel. I think you're lying."

"I'm not, really." Jou took a few steps toward him. Seto tried to beckon to him, but his wrists were bound with thick leather straps. "Damn it. Come closer."

Jou complied.

He reached out a shaking hand, his fingers hovering just above Seto's pale cheek. "No, no," Seto scolded. "Bad angel. Don't touch me." He lowered his voice to an exaggerated whisper. "You're not allowed."

"Why not?"

"You'll get dirty," Seto said with a self-satisfied smile. "No one touches Seto. He's a bad boy."

Jou could feel tears welling up in his eyes. "No, Seto, you're—"

"Yes I am! Seto's bad!" The CEO jerked frantically at his bonds, anger flashing over his face for the first time. "Bad Seto! Bad!"

"No, calm down—"

"Bad Seto!"

"Please, you're gonna hurt yourself!"

"Bad Seto!"

"Stop it!"

"Bad!"

"Seto, please!"

Seto's anger was gone as suddenly as it had come and he stilled, his face relaxing. "Hello."

"Er—hi?"

"I don't like this anymore, angel. I don't want to play anymore. Let me go, please."

"I—I can'—"

"Why not? I asked nicely. Let me go." Tears spilled soundlessly down his cheeks. "Please, angel."

"I don'—I'm not allowed—"

"Oh. Angels have rules too?" Rules were something Seto understood. You obey them, everything's alright. You break them, you get punished. He didn't want the angel to be punished. He wondered if the angel's daddy set his rules.

"Yeah. Angels have rules."

"But this game isn't fun anymore. I'm scared, angel. Don't leave."

"Why?" He was drugged, Jou shouldn't be taking advantage of that. But Seto was so hard to figure out when he was his normal, angry self that this seemed so much less painful for both of them.

"Because if you leave, Daddy will come."

"You—don' like your dad?"

"No, Daddy's alright. I don't really like his friends. Don't tell him."

"I won'. I promise. You can talk to me, Seto. I'm your friend."

"I don't have friends."

"Then I'll be the first."

"I'd like that."

"Why don' you like ... um ... your dad's friends?"

"Sometimes they're nice. They play games with me. But sometimes the games are bad. They hurt. And I always lose."

"Always?" No wonder Seto wanted to beat Yuug so badly ...

"Always. But I think they cheat."

"Wha' kind a' games?"

"I can't tell you that, angel. I'm not allowed."

"Games like this?" Jou gestured to Seto's restrained body. "Games where you can't move?"

"Can't move, can't make a sound. If I cry, I lose." He glanced up at the ceiling. "I always end up crying, though. Or screaming. I don't want to. I just ... do." He shrugged. "It's okay. I'll win someday."

Jou had to look away so that Seto didn't see his "angel" crying. "Someday."


	8. Split

Chapter Eight

Kumori Sakusha: Yees, a fanart series is in the works. So far I have a grand total of...one. Here's the link, if anyone's interested (sopy and paste, then delete the spacesXP) ?pid131097

setokaibawheeler: er..here's more? Don't kill me...and chapter nine's almost done...it'll make the rating go up, just t' warn you ...

Calico Avengi: Your fanart's on the way, m'dear. Your prediction was half-right? What's the other half?

Firey Charizard: (joins you in bashing Yutou into a pile of goo with the Spiky Mallet o' Doom). And thanks for being concerned about my safety...a boy my age died...he was hit by a tree...very, very sad....

Arora: Well, frightening panic was kinda what I was going for. I'm glad I suceeded. Yes, the part about him losing the games WAS sad, but it kinf of explains his fixation on defeating Yuugi. And yes, I do live in Florida.

Enzya: I don't like Yutou either. We should kill him. You cried? I actually made someone cry? Is it wrong that that makes me happy?

mandapandabug: Glad you liked it, and I'm glad you liked the fic I wrote for ya too. Everyone, please go read "Just Like You." I'm so proud of it. It's a one-shot SetoxJou angst, but it is rated R for a reason, so watch out.

Rosalyn Angel: Glad you liked your fanart. Best chapter yet Wai! I'm really fond of my little Seto-breakdown too. I like it muchly. Yes, major mood swings and uber-messed up bishies ... what could be better?

The Summer Stars: Always nice to have a new reviewer! Wow, three times in two days? (cries with joy) They really like me! And yes, Mokie will show up more, don't worry.

chittyco: Another new reviewer! Wai! That was a hell of a run-on sentence, but who cares! You like my writing!

Danielle: Amazing? (is seriously going to start crying)

Nikyo: Wouldn't want you to go insane. Here's your update!

* * *

Kaiba Seto was not a morning person by any means. Oh, sure, he got up and six in the morning to check stocks and so forth, but that was more habit than anything. He found comfort in routine.

So it was no surprise that he was rather upset to wake up in a stark white room with his limbs strapped to an uncomfortable hospital bed. "Rrgh," he grunted, pulling at his restraints.

"Seto!" Jou jerked awake from his equally uncomfortable hospital chair.

"Observant of you. Was this your idea? Very kinky, pup. Didn't know you had it in you." He tugged at his bonds again. "You mind?"

"I dunno, you promise you won' do anythin' stupid?"

"Hate to take your job away from you," Seto replied as Jou unbuckled his arms. He winced as blood flowed back into the limbs, setting tiny fires on his nerve endings. "This is a hell of a way to wake up."

Jou freed his legs. "You okay?"

"I have a massive headache and I can't move my major extremities. Never been better."

"I'm serious, Seto."

"So am I. I ache." He stared at his arm, willing it to move. He was ridiculously happy when his fingers twitched a bit. "So, what happened?"

"You don' remember?"

"No, did I get drunk?" That would explain the headache.

"Not exactly. I think your headache's got somethin' t' do wit' the syringe a' sedatives Aizawa-san had t' empty into you. You seriously don' remember dat?"

"No." He tried to sit up and failed, succeeding only in bashing his head against the hard mattress. "Did I have another attack?"

"I dunno," Jou said, glancing at his feet. He was still in his dress clothes; had he slept by Seto's side all night? It would have been touching had Seto been in a better mood. "It was kinda different than da las' one."

"Care to elaborate on that, mutt? How was it 'kinda different'?"

"It was like you were a little kid or somethin'. You didn't use all dem big words and insults and stuff. You were sorta like a really deranged Mokuba."

"I ... what?" For the first time in quite a while, Seto was speechless. This had never happened to him before; Aizawa had warned him about possible regressions in mental age if the trauma wasn't dealt with, but Seto hadn't seriously thought— "What's wrong with me?"

"I don' know. Aizawa-san's writin' da report righ' now." Jou shrugged.

"Why did you stay?"

"I was worried about you."

Seto snorted. "Did you sleep?"

"A little."

Seto gave him a Look.

"...no."

"How easily you cave. Come on than," he said, finally managing to push himself off of the bed. "I need to go talk to the nice shrink."

ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooo

"It was triggered by your encounter with Yutou-san."

"No kidding."

"I did warn you, Kaiba-san—"

"That there was a _possibility_! Not that it was likely!"

"Would you have done anything different?"

"Good point." Seto was on the verge of ripping out his perfectly groomed chestnut mane by the handful. "What now? What's wrong with me?"

"That's a loaded question," Aizawa replied, jotting down something in Seto's file. "I'd say this looks like a textbook case of split personality."

"Split—tell me you're kidding."

"Afraid not, Kaiba-san. You did describe in one of our earlier sessions a conversation you had during Duelist Kingdom with a younger version of yourself?"

"I'm afraid I don't remember."

"During the battle with Motou Yuugi, when it seemed you were about to lose the chance to save Mokuba-san, you described a vivid image of yourself as a ten-year-old child, an image that spoke to you, cursed you for not being able to help your brother."

"Yes." He remembered now. "I am not insane."

"Kaiba-san, it's not irreversible. Just take your meds and stop skipping our sessions. This is still in the early stages; the alternate personality hasn't begun to manifest when you're conscious yet."

"How am I supposed to run a company like this?" Seto was pacing now, fiddling with his watch in irritation.

"I think Kaiba Corp's the least of your worries now, Kaiba-san. Have Mokuba take over. Take a few months off. Take a vacation."

"I don't do relaxation. Sorry, Aizawa-san, I'm going to have to—"

"Is your money more important to you than your mental health?" Damn, Kaiba Seto was the most stubborn, pigheaded—

"Alright."

What?

"Pardon me, Kaiba-san?"

"I'll do it. Relax. Take a vacation." He sighed and flopped onto the couch. "How long?"

"I don't know. A few weeks, maybe? Then we'll start our regular sessions up again."

"A few—"He bit off the rest of the protest. "Fine."

ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooo

"Are you serious?" Jou took a sip of his drink, surveying his boyfriend over the rim. "I mean, dis isn' a joke?"

"Is it so unusual that I do something nice for you?"

"Well ... yeah."

"Kind of makes one wonder why you put up with me."

"Been wonderin' da same thing myself," Jou smirked, swirling the wine in his glass. Seeing the startled look on Seto's face, he laughed and set the drink down. "You really need to learn how t' take a joke."

"I'm not really used to humour."

"Neva woulda noticed."

"Anyways, that aside, pup, can you take a week or two off of work?"

"Well, yeah, I guess. Yuug can cover for me. So what, we hangin' at your place?"

"What? No, I meant a _vacation_. Out of the country."

Jou dropped his wineglass. "Oh, shit!" he swore when a deep-red stain flushed over the white tablecloth. A waiter ran over to remove the offending item. "I am so sorry!"

"Don't worry about it, Jonouchi-san," the waiter said, waving a dismissive hand. "It can be washed."

"Seriously? I can pay—"

"No, no, that's quite unnecessary. It was an accident."

"Wasn't quite the reaction I was expecting," Seto said with a small smile after the waiter had left, presumably to wash their tablecloth. "I take it you'd like to go?"

"Well, yeah! Where're we goin'?"

"I was thinking New York City, perhaps. I have a few apartments there—"

"_America_?"

"Something wrong with that?"

"I can' ... "he broke off, blushing. "I can' speak English."

"They teach it in school," Seto replied.

"I've neva been great in school, you know dat."

"True, but ... it shouldn't be a big problem. Didn't you live there for a few years, though?"

"I was little. I don' think I remember any of it."

"You'd be surprised how well you retain things from childhood."

"Ah, hell, it don' matter if I understand anything! I've missed New York. This is gonna be great!" He practically threw himself over the table, wrapping his arms around Seto. "Thank you so much!"

"Mutt ... "Seto warned.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Public display of affection."

ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooo

Jou had never been happier. He was going to America! With Seto! He knew he had a stupid grin on his face, but he was hard-pressed to care. He hummed to himself as he unlocked his apartment door, tossing the keys on the counter.

He hadn't been to America since he was a boy, and he'd missed the diversity. His mother was a native New Yorker, and they'd visited a lot when his folks had still been together. They'd even lived there for a few years when his mother's law firm had transferred her to the American branch.

He knew that Seto had been to New York before, but he doubted that the CEO had seen anything outside the walls of a meeting hall. Seto was going to relax if it killed him.

Now if only he could find his damn suitcase ...

Jou glanced around his apartment, wincing. He'd been busy lately, he rationalized. He hated living in a messy apartment, probably because it was always his job to clean up after his father. The man would have been perfectly happy with week-old Chinese takeout rotting under the couch.

Jou wrinkled his nose. It looked like a tornado had ravaged every belonging he owned. Clothes were thrown haphazardly over chairs, the sink was piled high with dirty dishes, and he could barely see the carpet through the layer of junk covering it. "Aw, man," he groaned. In his buoyant mood, the last thing he wanted to do was depress himself by cleaning, but he was sure that he didn't have enough clean clothes for two weeks in New York.

In fact, what was he expected to wear? He only owned one suit ...

He made a mental note to call Kaiba, then rolled up his sleeves and began the long, arduous task of making his apartment livable again.

ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooo

"New York? Wow," Honda said, trying to edge a fry off of Bakura's plate without him noticing. He yelped when Bakura buried his fork in the back of his hand. "Ow!"

"This is my food, mortal."

"You don't even like fries!" Honda gave the tomb robber his most mournful look.

"You're right. I don't." He turned to his hikari. "Want these?"

Ryou blinked at him. "I think Honda wanted them ... "

"Too bad," Bakura said sweetly, tipping the fries onto Ryou's plate. "Eat up, you're too skinny."

Ryou blushed. "Since when are you my mother?"

"If I am, you've got some sort of Oedipal complex," Bakura said through a mouthful of nearly-raw steak. Ryou flushed even darker and swatted Bakura with his napkin.

"Give the fries to Honda, yami," he commanded. Bakura complied, with a pout that would have been cute had it been on anyone else.

"You try to do something _nice_ for once ... "he muttered. Honda grinned and bolted down the fries.

"Anyway, that's great Jou," Yuugi said with a smile. He knew how worried his friend was about Kaiba, and he was glad that the CEO was treating him well. "I've been meaning to ask, what's with the collar?" Yuugi toyed with the buckle around his own neck. "Didn't realize I was such a trendsetter."

Jou laughed. "I tried dat already, Yuug. I don' know how you can wear dat leatha stuff so much. It's damn uncomfortable." He brushed self-conscious fingers over his tag. "Dis was a gift."

"From Seto? Kinky." Otogi met Jou's glare with wide, innocent emerald eyes.

"Don' push your luck," Jou growled, but he was joking. Mostly.

"Did I hurt the puppy's feelings?"

"For Ra's sake," Malik snapped. "Will you two give it a rest?"

They both stared at the blonde Egyptian. "We haven't even gotten started yet," Otogi said, sounding slightly hurt.

"I'm just sick of listening to you argue!"

"Don't listen to him," Marik said, gnawing on a steak nearly as bloody as Bakura's. "He's just pissy because Isis is coming home tomorrow."

"You don't want her to?" Yami arched an eyebrow at Malik. "I thought you liked your sister.

"I do. She just has a terrible habit of walking in at inopportune moments." Malik blushed. "Really inopportune moments."

"Don' really wanna think about dat," Jou announced. He glanced down at his watch. "I'd better get goin'. We're leavin' early tomorrow and I haven't packed yet."

"What're you taking?" Otogi asked, speaking up for the first time since they'd sat down to eat.

"Uh ... clothes?" Jou said helpfully.

"Not that, I hope?" Otogi gestured to Jou's faded black T-shirt and torn jeans.

"What's wrong wit' dis?"

"Nothing, if you're going for the hobo look. It's New York, my dear, and it's crawling with people ready and willing to pry your CEO away from you."

"And me dressin' differently has what t' do wit' dat?"

Otogi waved his hand at Jou, as if he were shooing away a particularly irritating fly. "It's a matter of semantics, puppy. Bottom line: New York pretty, you not."

Jou glared at him. "I look fine."

"Uh-huh."

"Really."

"Sure."

"I mean ... I do, righ'?" Jou turned to Yuugi. "Are my clothes dat bad?"

"Well ... uh ... "Yuugi stammered, rubbing the back of his neck. "They're _casual_, Jou, and New York isn't really a casual place. Especially not with a multibillionaire."

"I look bad?"

"No!" Yuugi said hastily. "You don't look bad, Jou—"

"You're cute, but you need help. Honestly, for a gay man, you dress terribly." Otogi rubbed his hands together with the same sort of joyful glee that Nanashi-san had displayed at the thought of making him "pretty."

And after Nanashi-san had gone psycho on him with makeup ... well, he was terrified of what Otogi might do.

And then came the dreaded words: "Let's go shopping!"

ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooo

"You jus' enjoy maxin' out my credit card. Admit it." Jou struggled to balance his bags and packages, while Otogi practically skipped alongside him, carrying only a few light bags.

"Yeah, so? It's not like you're anywhere near the end of your credit, Jou. You may not be as rich as Kaiba, but you're up there with the big boys." Otogi grinned at him. "Besides, think of how surprised he'll be at your new look ... "

It had been a tiring day. Six hours of nonstop shopping and Otogi chattering at him. Jou actually owned makeup. He didn't exactly possess the skills necessary to _apply_ it, but Otogi had assured him that he would learn quickly.

And he had more clothes now that would ever fit in his apartment. Jou lost track of everything he had bought, but he knew that most of it was tight, short, and just plain indecent.

Some of it wasn't bad. Otogi's style seemed to change with his current fling, and he was leaning toward a more Mokuba-esque fashion. He'd bought a few pairs of overly-baggy bondage pants and more fishnet than he'd ever seen on a hooker. And a few overpriced vintage T-shirts of bands he'd listened to as a kid in America; he was wearing an AC/DC shirt now.

Yeah, maybe Otogi was alright. He cast a sidelong glance at the actor. He'd always admired him, always admired his ability to be himself. He'd never made a secret of the fact that he was gay; he didn't give a shit what anyone else thought of him.

Jou guessed that was kind of cool.

Otogi turned, arching a perfectly-groomed eyebrow at him. "What are you staring at?"

Jou laughed. "Nothin', man. Nothin'."

An uneventful chapter, but hey...it's kinda cute, ne?


	9. New York, New York

Chapter Nine: New York, New York

(bashes her head against something solid) I don't know if you huys have heard this or not, but Yuugiou: Duel Monsters isn't the end of the Yuugiou series. There's a manga called Yuugiou R, (not really clear what the R stands for ... I'm thinking 'Reloaded') which isn't drawn by Takahashi-sensei, but the art's gorgeous anyways, and Takahashi-sensei is overseeing it and making sure they don't kill it. It includes all the characters we know and love (Pretty boys! Pretty boys!), although it's got little to nothing to do with the storyline DM followed. Oh, the Sennen Items are still there and all, but it's got something to do with Pegasus's brother (like one wasn't enough...) getting revenge on Yuugi for defeating Pegasus at Duelist Kingdom. So I guess YGO R is like an offical AU fic ... ?

Needless to say, the news that all didn't die with Atem made me very happy. I don't know if they'll release YGO R in America, since we're not actually done with YGO DM yet, but that's what we've got scanlations for. No, what really pissed me off was that fact that the animation studio's doing a Dragonball-esque spinoff, not based on any manga created by Takahashi-sensei. It doesn't even include the same characters. Kaiba's mentioned briefly, and Yuugi appears in the first episode, but then it's the story of some punk-ass little kid who's not nearly as pretty as ANY of Takahashi-sensei's characters! No offense if any of you out there are actually Yuugiou GX fans, 'cause I haven't seen the series, but it strikes a chord of familiarity ... sort of like what they did with Digimon: series after series of completely new characters. I mean, can they even _call_ it Yuugiou if Yuugi isn't in it?

So, that's my rant. I feel a lot better now. Feel free to ignore me.

Okay, since we've reached forty-three reviews, there are two more fanart requests I'll do. I'm still working on Cali-san's, but my computer's being a complete bastard, so it might take a while. The lucky two reviewers are:

Firey Charizard

The Summer Stars

The Summer Stars: Yes, I particulary enjoyed Bakura's assult on Honda. I like Honda, don't get me wrong, but I like a half-mental Bakura even better. And yeah, I don't know psychology either. I'm kinda making it up.

Calico-Avengi: MPD is adorable? I'll take your word for it- Here's the REAL link for the fanart. http:www. pictures.php? pid131097 just take out the spaces, minna!

Kumori Sakusha: Sankyuuu!

chittyco: Cute and cuddly? Wai!

mandapandabug: Here's your eventful chapter...(blushes)

Nikyo: (sticks tongue out at YOU) You're welcome. And here's another update.

Firey Charizard: Thanks for the suggestions...I'm gonna use them! I was going with the whole Christmas theme, but...well...that kinda died. And I'm glad you didn't see it coming...Seto's other personality makes a brief appearence in this chapter. Finally, my writer's vlock is gone! Expect mucho updates!

Okay, this chapter MAKES THE RATING GO UP, but the rest of the story's gonna be PG-13, so I'm not actually changing the rating. I will, however, warn you when the lemon begins. Mmm, citrus.

"Ooh! Seto, look!"

Seto groaned and closed his book for at least the tenth time since they'd gotten into the limo. "Yes, puppy, I've seen the Empire State Building before."

"But it's so pretty, all lit up like dat ... "Jou smiled, staring at the building outside the window, and Seto couldn't help but wrap his arms around him.

"It is, isn't it?" He rested his chin on Jou's shoulder, nuzzling his cheek.

Jou blushed. "Seto ... "

"What? You're always complaining about how I never touch you in public."

"This isn' public. That limo driver-guy works for ya."

"Enjoy it while it lasts, mutt."

"Hm."

They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, Seto practically sprawled across the backseat using Jonouchi as a pillow. "Hey, Seto?"

"What?"

"Um ... why're we here?"

"Because the fucking traffic in America is ten times worse than in Japan."

"No, I mean why're we here? In America?"

"Because we're on vacation. I don't get it, pup, what are you talking about?" Seto pushed himself away from Jou so they could face each other.

"Well, it's jus' ... I've known ya a long time, Seto."

"Yes."

"And in all dat time, I don' think you've eva taken a vacation. At least not one dat wasn' related t' Kaiba Corp. So unless dis is a business trip—"

"I wouldn't do that to you."

"—there's a reason we're here that you aren' tellin' me. So spill. What's wrong?"

Seto could only stare at him. Jou was intelligent, perceptive, much more than Seto had ever given him credit for. Had he known the whole time that something was wrong?

"Aizawa-sensei told me I needed a break, that's all. I figured you could use one too."

"Whateva happened musta freaked you out pretty bad."

"What?"

"Normally you woulda told the doctor t' shove it," Jou said, leaning his cheek on his palm. "What did Aizawa-sensei tell you?"

Seto looked away. "I don't want to talk about it, pup."

Jou shrugged. "Fair 'nuff. I'll get ya t' tell me 'fore we leave." He grinned at Seto. "So where're we eatin'?"

"Eating?" Seto blinked, startled by the sudden change of topic. "Oh, there's a little place in the Village that's supposed to be nice—"

"The Whatsit?"

"The Village. It's part of New York."

"Oh. Do I hafta dress up?"

Seto sighed.

ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooo

"Yeah, he's actin' really weird."

Seto paused, hand still outstretched as if he was going to knock on Jou's partially-opened door, which had actually been his original intent. Who was he talking to?

"I dunno, Yuug, he won't talk t' me. I mean, I don' think he woulda brought me along unless somethin' was wrong, but he won' tell me what it is. Yeah, we got in dis afternoon. I'm getting' dressed for dinner. What? Oh, no, I don' think so. Hey, I'm usin' up my minutes—I'll call ya later. Say hi t' Yami for me." Jou turned and Seto could see the small cell phone in his hand.

"Pup? Are you decent?"

"Am I eva?" Jou asked sarcastically. "C'mere and help me."

"With what?" Seto pushed the door open. Jou was clad only in a pair of jeans, his hands planted on his slim hips, and he was glaring at his suitcase.

"I don' have anythin' t' wear."

Seto stared at the bag, which seemed to have exploded, spewing bright cloth all across Jou's bedspread. "Don't have anything to wear? I don't even remember you owning this much clothing."

"Well, Otogi took me shopping."

"That's a dangerous combination of words," Seto said. "You didn't end up with any skirts, did you?"

"What? No!"

"Calm down, I was kidding." Seto picked up a blue shirt and tossed it at Jou. "Here. This is fine."

"Fine?" Jou pulled the shirt on and shot Seto a Look. "I wanna look better than fine."

"Why the sudden concern for appearance?"

"You're sexy without even tryin'," Jou said, angrily jerking a brush through his hair. "You wouldn' understand."

Seto grinned, wrapping his arms around Jou so they were back-to-chest, with Seto's chin rested on the top of Jou's head. "You think I'm sexy?" he purred.

Jou blushed. "Well—um—dat is—"he stammered, cheeks bright red. "Yeah. Kinda."

"Good," Seto whispered huskily in his ear, sending shivers up Jou's spine. Ah, God, why did Seto tease him like this? Didn't he understand how _hard_ it was to contain himself when his boyfriend insisted on acting like that?

Probably not, he reflected. Seto either had complete control over his ... ah ... hormones, or he got off simply on watching Jou squirm. If it was the latter, Jou was going to castrate Seto.

Maybe that was a bit extreme?

Seto's tongue slid into his ear, tracing the fine ridges and crevices before withdrawing and caressing the side of his neck.

Nah. Nothing was too extreme.

"Mmm ... Seto ... "Jou closed his eyes and leaned his head back, savouring the feeling of his koi's hands roaming over his body. Seto's slim fingers slid under his shirt—

--and were just as suddenly gone. Jou whimpered in disappointment, but Seto was already halfway across the room, putting on his jacket. "We're going to be late."

"Seto!"

ooooooOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooo

"Why d'you do this t' me?" Jou asked, once they were seated in Seto's Mercedes for the week. "It's not fair. You can' be human."

"What are you talking about?"

"You ... _touchin'_ me like dat, and then pulling away, like nothin' eva happened. S'not normal."

Seto flushed; he'd been wondering how long they'd be together before the lack of physical contact would begin to wear on the mutt. He was naturally affectionate, and Seto knew how badly it pained him when he was shoved away, but it was more than Seto could do to reach out for his little angel with less-than-honourable intentions. He didn't want to hurt him, but he couldn't make himself desire intimacy. The very idea made him sick.

"I'm sorry."

"You're not. You're a sadistic bastard, dat's all," Jou said cheerfully.

"No, pup, it's not ... "Seto sighed. He couldn't expect Jou to understand. He didn't _want_ him to understand. "Never mind."

"S'okay. It's 'cause a' Yutou, righ'? Him an' all dem otha bastards dat ... "Jou broke off, staring determinedly out the window. "I undastand. You think ... you think you'll eva be able t' ... y'know ... "

"I don't know."

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Then: "Hey, Seto?"

"Hm?"

"You gonna tell me what's wrong now? You're actin' even weirder den usual."

"Thank you. And no."

"Come on. Whateva it is, it can' be _dat_ bad."

"You'd be surprised." If Jou knew he was insane, what would he do then? He might leave ... walk out and never look back, and Seto couldn't blame him in the least, but he didn't think he could handle losing his puppy. "I don't—"

"It's got somethin' t' do wit' dat last visit you had wit' Aizawa-san. What'd he tell you?"

Seto jerked the wheel sharply to the right to avoid crashing into the car in front of him. "You ... how did you ... "

"I'm not stupid. Dat's when ya started actin' all weird." Jou glanced at him, the streetlights sweeping through the car and highlighting his glimmering amber eyes. "I'm not gonna make fun of you."

"That's not—"

"I was da only one dat didn't laugh when you told us you were gay, remember?"

Seto did.

"And I didn' treat you any different when you tol' me what happened wit' Yutou an' all."

Seto flinched.

"You haven' figured it out yet, have ya? I'm not gonna hate you, no matter what you tell me. I wan' you t' be able ta talk t' me. Anything dat's botherin' you, whateva's wrong, it doesn' matter t' me."

Seto wasn't crying. He had something in his eye, and that's why he was tearing up. Kaiba Seto didn't _cry_. Not over something as stupid as this. He firmly maintained his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. He screeched to a halt, realizing a moment too late that every car in front of them had stopped.

"Shit, Seto! You're gonna get us killed!"

"They were in my way."

"You nearly took off the back end a' their car!" Jou grabbed his wrist. "Pull over, Seto."

"No."

"You're in no condition to drive! Are you even supposed t' be operatin' heavy machinery when you're on meds?"

"I'm fine."

"You're shakin'. Are you gonna have another attack?"

"No."

"Please, Seto. Just pull over. I'll drive."

oooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooo

"Seto, are you sure? I mean, I think it'd be easier if we jus' went back t' th' hotel—"

"Really, pup. I'm alright." And it was true. Seto had stopped shaking, save for the traces of a fine tremble, but that might have had something to do with the six glasses of wine he'd consumed.

"An' is it really a good idea t' be drinkin' when you're on—" Jou's sentence ended abruptly when Seto's hand clamped over his mouth.

"Shut up, mutt," he snapped, seemingly having difficulty focusing on the blonde. A very un-Seto-like flush coloured his pale cheeks, and his words were a bit slurred. "I'm fine." He threw his head back, draining the last traces of alcohol from the bottom of his glass. "How's your food?"

Jou blinked, somewhat startled by the sudden change of topic. "Eh? Oh, it's good. How 'bout yours?" He glanced at Seto's plate, noticing with some dismay that he didn't seem to have touched it.

"Very good. You want some?"

"No, that's okay."

They sat in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes, until the server interrupted them. "Excuse me, sir," he said politely. "Is your food not satisfactory?"

Jou blinked at the man, missing enough of the English words that the sentence barely made sense. Something about food.

"No, it's fine," Seto said in perfect, unaccented English. "Could you bring me another of these?" He held out his empty wineglass. "And one for my friend?"

"Of course, sir." The waiter took his leave.

"I don't want any wine, Seto. One of us has to drive home."

"I'll call the limo."

"Seto..."

"Come on," Seto urged as the waiter reappeared with a bottle, uncorking it and filling their glasses. "Just try it. There's not enough in a glass to get you drunk."

"That's not my point. I don' want t' drink, Seto."

"Why not?"

"My father—"

"You're not your father. One glass of wine doesn't make you an alcoholic. Come on. This is expensive."

oooooOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooo

"...and den Yuug jus' turned bright red an' ran. You'd think he'd neva seen a naked guy 'afore." Jou laughed, half-sprawled over the table, gesturing drunkenly with his wineglass.

Seto snorted. "Knowing him, he prob'ly hadn't." Oh, he was starting to feel the alcohol now. Normally he would have hated the idea of anything, even wine, having influence over him, but it was sort of nice to be able to laugh like this, to be so...normal. That wasn't something he got to experience much.

Jou grinned and took another sip of wine. "Y'know, you're a lot nicer when you're drunk."

"I am?" Seto asked, hiccupping. His face was flushed, his eyes glazed, and his vocabulary had diminished quite a bit, the words slurring together.

"Hn. You're not as much of a hardass."

Seto drained his glass and Jou followed suit. "You ready t' leave?" Seto asked, getting to his feet, swaying unsteadily. "It looksh like they're closing up." And indeed, the waiters were clearing the tables, turning off the lights, and preparing to lock their doors. It was well past midnight, and the restaurant had closed an hour ago.

"Mr. Kaiba, I took the liberty of calling your limo for you and Mr. Jonouchi. I hope you don't mind, but I don't think either of you should be driving." The waiter paused nervously, as if half-expecting a blow.

"Nah, sh'okay," Seto slurred, staggering towards Jonouchi. "Here. This should cover it." He handed the waiter a wad of bills. The man glanced at it.

"Sir, this is too much—"

"Keep it. Good shervice," Seto said, throwing an arm around Jou's shoulders. Somehow, leaning on one another, the two managed to make it out the door, where the limo was waiting for them at the curb.

Ten minutes later, the limo driver decided that Mr. Kaiba _definitely_ didn't pay him enough. He was considering installing soundproof glass.

ooooooooOOOOOOOOOooooooooooo

BEGINNING OF LEMON!!!

"Mm...mutt, the door..."

Jou rummaged in his pocket for the room key, sliding it into the electronic lock and shoving the door open, managing to keep a firm hold on Seto's waist, not to mention a tongue down his throat. "Happy?" he purred, nibbling at Seto's throat. The brunette moaned, tightening his grip on Jonouchi.

"Hnn...Jou..."

"Yeah?"

Seto's cobalt eyes opened, still glazed over with the alcohol, and he bit his lip as they met Jou's golden orbs, fluid and glimmering, with all the spectacular sheen of sunlight and honey. He wasn't sure exactly what it was, lust denied for seven years, or maybe the wine still coursing through his veins, but he knew what he needed, what he wanted, and he leaned closer to Jou, until his breath tickled the shorter man's ear. "Fuck me. Hard."

Oh, it was the wrong thing to say and he knew it, but he'd said it and now all he could do was wait. He clung to Jonouchi, watching those beautiful eyes for repulsion, revulsion, anger even. All he saw was a slight surprised widening, followed by a smirk. "Are you sure 'bout this?"

Seto swallowed nervously, nodding. "Fuck me. Hard." It was so much easier the second time, now that he knew Jou wouldn't shove him away. Jou flashed him a grin, teeth flashing in the gloom, almost eerily reminiscent of Seto's dream.

And then Jou grabbed the back of his head, jerking a handful of his hair as he brought their lips together in a crushing, stifling kiss. Seto could barely keep his balance as he was propelled towards his bedroom, Jou's hands insistently tugging at his clothing. He was sure he heard a few buttons rip off of his shirt as Jou casually tossed it aside, his tongue flicking at Seto's lips, silently asking permission, thought Seto was sure Jou would continue even without Seto's consent.

Rather than fighting this early into the night, Seto parted his lips, allowing Jou's tongue to slip inside. Then rough hands were planted on his chest, shoving him backwards onto the bed, roaming over his abdomen. Jou pulled back long enough to breathe and remove his own shirt. "You sure 'bout 'dis?"

He was straddling Seto, pinning him to the mattress, moonlight streaming down on his shoulders, glimmering in his hair. Seto could barely breathe, couldn't speak, and he knew he looked ridiculous, chest heaving as he fought for oxygen. Seto arched his back and moaned as Jou began an assault on his chest, alternately licking and biting at his nipples. How was he expected to answer?

"Sure?" Jou apparently had taken his words to heart; he gripped Seto's flesh hard, enough to leave bruises around his wrists. The rush of pain felt good, burning his nerves enough to make him feel alive.

"Haa...nn!" Jou's hair tickled his stomach as the blonde's tongue delved into his navel, the soft strands a sharp contrast to the fingers pressed into his skin. Jou jerked at Seto's pants, irritated by their presence, and slid them off, tossing them aside where they landed next to Seto's shirt on the floor. Black boxers soon joined them, and Seto was stretched out on the bed, naked, laid bare and blushing madly.

"Sure?" He wasn't giving up, insistent as always. Jou held out his hand, fingers extended towards Seto, and the brunette accepted them, opened his mouth, laving them with his tongue. When he had finished, Jou withdrew, flipping him onto his stomach with ease, twisting his arms behind his back.

Seto whimpered as a finger slid inside him, then another, stretching him and making him acutely aware of just how much this was going to hurt. The fingers probed deeper, searching, and Seto let out a hiss as they found that little bundle of nerves deep inside him. He keened and clenched his fists.

"Yes!" he cried, an exhalation, a plea, the only word he'd managed since they'd began.

"Dat what you want?"

"Aahhn!" No warning, nothing, just the agonizing burn of invasion and Seto cramped up, his body curling off the mattress, straining at the grip on his wrists. He sobbed, choking on a gasp. He could feel himself splitting in two and it hurt, oh God did it hurt—

_A man knelt over him, driving himself deeper into the lithe body beneath him. Seto's eyes were wide, his throat clenched, managing only a choked whimper as the man rocked back. But he couldn't see the man in the darkness, he couldn't remember, what did it matter, just another faceless body—_

Teeth closed on the juncture between neck and shoulder, piercing flesh, demanding immediate attention. Something hot and wet trickled down his cheeks, but whether it was tears or sweat, Seto wasn't certain. "Pay attention to me," Jou hissed. Cruel, but keeping him grounded, keeping him there, preventing another attack, another flashback, and Seto was grateful, even through the pain.

He burned, throbbed, and he was certain he was bleeding—it had been so long—and then somehow the throb ebbed away as his body adjusted, fitting Jou's, moulding to him. Something cool trailed across his hot face, soothing, again and again. Seto opened eyes he didn't remember closing. Jou's fingers, long and slim and comforting, attempting to calm him, caressing his skin gently. Seto's wrists were free, his arms dropped limply to his sides, and he fisted them in the sheets, stifling a whimper.

Somehow it struck him; this was real, Jou was real, insistent, demanding, and he was letting him. No, encouraging him. He was really doing this, not just another dream. Jou was inside him, filling, moving, and it was wrong, because as Jou's hand slid under him, wrapping around him gently, he could barely contain a moan. Jou's hand slid along his thighs, not bruising, not rough, just _there_. It felt so good, and the absence of pain terrified him more than anything ever had. It wasn't enough, he needed more, he needed that burning, wrenching intensity he had trained himself to enjoy as a child.

"Harder," he begged, and Jou complied. He understood what Seto wanted and he tightened his grip on the brunette, twisting harshly and reducing him to a pitiful, sobbing mass, moaning and gasping a string of words that made no sense at all. The fingernails of the blonde's free hand sank into the creamy, tender skin on the inside of Seto's thigh, deep enough to draw blood.

That was it, the wave of heat reached its crest and Seto screamed as he fell, fire coursing through his veins and ebbing away, draining him. He lay there, dazed and utterly exhausted as Jou rode out his own climax before pulling out of Seto gently, carefully, not wanting to hurt him any more. As if that could matter.

Seto's mind struggled, through a haze of sex and alcohol, to comprehend what had happened, what Seto had just done. His sides heaved as he fought for air, his heart finally slowing down to a normal pace, and his damp body clung to the sheets. It still hurt.

He _was_ torn, he could tell now, and the remainder of Jou's climax burned in the wound, throbbing, a comforting reminder that it hadn't been too strange. He knew this feeling, he was used to the pain afterwards, and it somehow made him feel better that he had felt something unpleasant after all.

"You okay?" Jou licked gently at the bite-mark on Seto's neck, in apology, it seemed. The words startled him, reminding him all of a sudden that Jou was there.

What was he supposed to say now? No one had ever stayed afterwards; usually he lay silent and unmoving until his latest assailant left before he struggled to his feet and cleaned himself off the best he could. Was he required to speak? He didn't want to turn around, to see the man who had fucked him. He didn't want to see another self-satisfied smirk, because then he'd never be able to sleep again.

Oh, God. He'd slept with Jou.

He wasn't entirely sure why it had struck him now, but as soon as it did his stomach dropped. Stupid. This wasn't just another stranger, another person he'd never met in daylight. It was Jou, someone he knew, his boyfriend, someone he cared for. Jou's fingers gripped his chin gently, forcing Seto to turn and look at him.

He wasn't smiling.

His face was flushed, lips red and hair sweat-soaked. His golden eyes gleamed with concern, his brows furrowed into a questioning look. "Wh—what happened?"

"We had sex. Did you like it?"

Anything beginning with "yes," or even "hnn" would have sufficed, but Seto couldn't force the words out. He couldn't think. He was paralyzed with fright, and everything was shutting down. He was so tired...

Jou's brow wrinkled as Seto stared at him, eyes wide, tears streaming down his cheeks soundlessly. "Seto? Seto, what's wrong? Did I do somethin'?"

"It should have hurt more," Seto mumbled, scrubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand in a decidedly childlike motion. It was a bizarre incongruity with his normal personality, and Jou could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Something was amiss, but he couldn't quite place his finger on it...

"Why?"

"It just...should have." Cautiously, Seto spread his arms to Jonouchi, looking for all the world like a child asking to be picked up. "Are you going to leave?"

Jou pulled Seto into an embrace and Seto buried his face in the hollow of the blonde's neck, curling up against him. "No, I won't leave."

He could feel Seto smile. "Goodnight angel."

(A/N: Okay, in case anyone missed it, Seto started having another attack when he realized what he did, and his other personality took over. The other personality, who I don't actually have a name for, but is a little-kid Seto thing, takes over in times of extreme stress. It's Seto's mind trying to protect his sanity.)

(A/N: And this was my first time writing a SetoxJou lemon...I hopt it didn't suck too much. Ja ne, minna-san!)


	10. Daddy's Little Whore

Chapter Ten: Daddy's Little Whore

Interesting title, ne? This chapter's pretty angsty, and I introduce another new character, who, evben though she is female, absolutely will NOT become romantically involved with anyone. She's this old lady, 'cause I think little trauma-Seto needs a grandmother. (shrugs) I dunno.

Wooh, 51 reviews! Still haven't gotten those fanart requests, dears!

Kumori Sakusha: I love your reviews. You make me feel so good about myself!

SetoKaibaWheeler: This was a fast update...I'm churnin' out the chapters...

The Summer Stars: Oh, I'm so glad someone picked up on that! Yes, drunken sex IS wrong, and it was a terrible thing to happen. Seto kinda half-enjoyed it, but it messed him up in the long run. I'm glad you think I wrote it realistically...I think Kaiba would have a LOT more trouble willingly sleeping with someone after being raped than a lot of fanfic authors would like to believe. And no, you're not a wuss. I'm glad it had an effect on you.

fanficlunatic234: Woot, another new reviewer! (waves) You didn't expect that? Good! You weren't supposed to! In answer to your questions: Yeah, of course Seto's gonna have more episodes! In this chapter, in fact. I'm getting really attatched to his other personality, who I've affectionately nicknamed "chibi-Seto." And as for who's gonna be the seme...well, you'll just have to read, won't you?

chittyco: Do your report! Do it now! I'm kidding, I do the same thing. "Hm, yaoi or chemisty, yaoi or chemisty...who am I kidding? Yaoi!" I'm glad you liked it, m'dear.

mandapandabug: Yeah, Jou's usually the uke, but I figured since Seto had never EVER been the seme in his life, it would make mor sense this way. Also, Seto kinda doesn't know what to do. Heh. I'm not really sure if it would help or hurt Seto to be seme. It might just feed his control issues. But you've given me thoughs now, and they're going to squiggle their way into my plot, I just know it! Oh, and I'm not entirely certain that Seto's capable of realizing that anyone wants it. He's a little messed up.

PyroKittyKat: Thanks much!

Moonbeam: Hah, my lemon made someone blush...

* * *

He'd never woken up in someone's arms before. He panicked, freezing, muscles rigid with shock when he realized that he wasn't the only warm body in the bed, that long limbs were twined around him, that his face was pressed to someone's chest. He didn't even recognize the bed.

He disentangled himself and sat up, wincing as a truly magnificent headache pounded against his skull full-force. He had a mother of a hangover, and the bright sunlight filtering through the picture window didn't help.

Where was he? He glanced around, massaging his throbbing temples. New York, he decided, casting a glance at a day-old newspaper on his nightstand. That's right. He was on vacation. With...

Seto's heart stopped.

Clothes, scattered over the floor. _His_ clothes and a pair of jeans and a blue shirt he never would have worn. Seto glanced down at his very, very naked body, eyes widening as he noticed the sticky substance half-dried on his stomach and the blood on his thighs.

Memories of the night before came rushing back in a flood of sweat, pain and screams. He smelled like sex, and he cast a glance over at the sleeping body beside him, hoping against hope that he was wrong, that he hadn't gotten _that_ drunk, that one of them would have had the sense to...

"Mornin,' babe."

Jonouchi.

The blonde smiled sleepily at him, running his fingers through his unruly hair. He was the perfect picture of 'the morning after,' the sheets bunched around his waist, showing off his trim stomach and tanned chest, but Seto was hard-pressed to notice. When Jou reached out to him he screamed and hurled himself to the opposite side of the room. He clasped a hand over his mouth, biting back a moan and slid down the wall, curling into a miserable ball on the carpet.

He'd slept with Jou.

"Seto? What's wrong?"

"You...I...we..._God_, no, tell me we didn't..."

Jou glanced at the clothes scattered on the floor, at his own naked form, at the dirty sheets. "All signs point to 'yes,'" he said finally, with a hint of an apologetic tone in his voice. "You don't remember?"

"I _do_ remember. That's the problem." Seto buried his face in his knees, arms folded over his head. "Why, Jou?"

"Why what? Didn't you...I mean, you didn't want me...?"

"Of course I didn't! I have _intimacy_ issues, in case you've forgotten!"

"How was I supposed to know?" Jou yelled back, eyes glinting angrily. "You asked me to, and I quote, fuck you. Hard."

He had said that, Seto recalled dimly. "I was drunk, mutt! I wasn't thinking properly!"

"What, the same excuse doesn't work for me?"

"You're just like them!" Seto roared. "'I know it seems like everyone that's interested in you just wants to get you in bed, but that's not how it's supposed to work, Seto.' Do you remember saying that? _Do you? _You fucking _hypocrite!_"

"I thought you wanted it! I didn't mean to hurt you!"

"Well, you did!" Seto bolted for the door, slamming it behind him. Jou could only stare at the polished wood, aghast, as he listened to his lover storm around the suite, most likely dressing himself, and then the slam of the door.

Seto was gone.

Jou pounded a fist into the bedsheets, tearing at his hair. "Shitshitshit_shit_!"

oooooOOOOOOOoooooo

He ran. He'd never been the athletic sort, never been very fast, or even very coordinated, but he tore down the street as if pursued by a demon. His heart pounded in his throat, his blood thrummed in his ears and sill he pushed on, feet pounding the pavement desperately.

Ah, but this demon couldn't be escaped. No, it was inside him, devouring him alive with muddled memories. He wasn't sure where reality ended and dream began. He couldn't remember; what did it matter?

He sank to his knees on the pavement, chest heaving as he fought for breath, staring down at himself. Dirty, he was filthy, how on earth had he gotten like this? He had been clean when he left the hotel, where did these stains come from? He held his hands out, turning them over and over, inspecting the blood and semen coating his skin. What happened?

"_Mmm...good boy, that's a good boy..." Seto's heart swelled and he grinned, since he knew no one could see it in the darkened room. A good boy, he was good, he'd done something right! He settled himself between Yutou's legs, burying his nose in the coarse hairs just above reddened, swollen flesh and Yutou gave a deep moan, pushing Seto's head down insistently. Daddy would be so pleased..._

"_He behaved?" Gozaborou shot Seto a startled look. "Really?"_

"_Hn," Yutou affirmed, running loving fingers through the brunette's hair. His hand brushed a deep purple bruise and Seto winced, though he didn't shy away. He'd escaped nearly unharmed, with only a few bruises and bite-marks. He wiggled experimentally in Yutou's lap, delighted to realize he wasn't torn up as much inside, either. Maybe if he were good enough, Yutou wouldn't hurt him._

_Gozaborou graced his adopted son with a rare smile. "I'm proud of you, Seto." Seto knew better than to look his father in the eyes, but he beamed, biting down on his lower lip to stop the smile. If Gozaborou saw it, he'd be angry, and Seto didn't want to ruin this moment for anything. Sitting in a warm office with his father and his...he shot a furtive glance at Yutou. What was he? _

_Master, Seto decided. It was what he'd been instructed to call the man, and it just seemed to fit. He was powerful and rough, wild and beautiful, always in complete control of everything, and Seto loved him for it. He was perfect, confident, strong, everything Seto wanted so badly to be. Maybe if he were like Master, Daddy would like him more._

_Gozaborou never touched him. Not that Seto wanted him to, not in that way because after all he _was_ his father, adopted or not. But Gozaborou took it to an extreme, recoiling in some measure of horror from the boy if he so much as brushed against him in a hallway. He never laid a hand on Seto, never hit him, never comforted him, never even grabbed him to get his attention. He'd watched his father with Mokuba, smiling, laughing, picking the boy up and whirling him around, and it wrenched at his heart, because he knew he'd never be good enough for that. _

_The touch Seto craved wasn't sexual; he had plenty of that from Master and his friends. No, he wanted love. The sort of unconscious affection Gozaborou had for Mokuba. Seto had asked him about it once, and Gozaborou's reply had been simple; Seto was dirty, Mokuba was not. It didn't seem quite fair, since Seto was only dirty to please his father, but who was he to argue? _

"_Who's daddy's little whore?" Gozaborou asked, kneeling down in front of him and ruffling his hair affectionately. Seto's eyes widened, and he couldn't help but smile. Daddy had touched him for the first time in five years, Daddy didn't hate him, he was proud of him! _

"_I am," he whispered happily. "I am."_

"I am."

Passersby cast bewildered glances at the man kneeling in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at his immaculately groomed hands as if they held the answer to life itself. But none of them dared ask what was wrong; it was New York, after all, and strange, possibly unstable people were just one of the city's quirky little charms.

Seto blinked up at the buildings, at the people crowding around him on the sidewalk, at the cars rushing past. Where was he? The cars were on the wrong side of the road, and he couldn't understand a word of what the people around him were saying. He got to his feet shakily, wondering why they didn't support him very well.

"Excuse me," he asked politely, tugging on the sleeve of a passing woman. "I think I'm lost. Could you tell me how to get to the Kaiba Corporation building?"

The woman cast him an irritated glance and jerked her arm free, snapping something that Seto couldn't make out. He couldn't speak English very well, why didn't she just speak plain Japanese? Daddy had always hated how slowly Seto picked up languages, especially when he was virtually a genius at everything else.

But where _was_ Daddy? Set had never been allowed on the streets before by himself, not without at least two bodyguards, and he felt so vulnerable out here all alone. This wasn't the first time it had happened, wasn't the first time he'd woken up in a strange place with no idea how he'd gotten there, and no way to get home.

"Daddy," he whimpered, curling up against a spray-painted wall. Daddy had to be looking for him; if he waited long enough someone would find him. Maybe Master? Seto glanced at his watch. He was late for their appointment already.

oooooooooOOOOOOooooooooo

Someone _was_ looking for him, but it wasn't his father, and it wasn't Yutou. Jonouchi had cleaned himself off as quickly as possible, thrown some clothes on, not even paying attention to what he looked like—Seto was gone, what did it matter?—and he was currently engaged in conversation with the limo driver, whose name he was fairly sure was Richard, wishing he'd paid attention in English class.

"Please, Seto's gone," he pleaded in Japanese. "Kaiba. Kaiba's out there alone, and I have t' find him."

"I'm sorry," the driver said in English. "I don't speak Japanese."

"And I don' speak English!" Jou pounded a fist against the wall of the garage in fury. He was sure that he could get Richard to take him someplace, but how was he supposed to explain that he needed to search for Seto?

Wait, Ryou was half-British. He'd lived in England before he'd moved to Japan. If he could get him on the cell phone... "Wait a minute," he said, holding up one finger, a universal sign that the driver understood. He dialed the Bakura household as quickly as possible with trembling fingers, and was greeted by a furious growl.

"Who the hell is this?"

"Bakura? It's Jou. I need t' talk t' Ryou. Please."

"You have a way of calling at an incredibly bad time," Bakura snarled, and Jou noted for the first time that he sounded out of breath.

"Eh? Oh, sorry. It's an emergency though, it'll jus' take a minute."

"Bakura? Who is it?" A second later Ryou's gentle voice washed over Jou. "Hello?"

"Ryou," Jou sobbed in relief. "I need your help."

"Sure, what is it?"

"You speak English, right?"

"Yes."

"I need you t' translate fer me. Seto ran away dis morning, and I have t' go look fer him, but his limo driver doesn' speak Japanese."

"Sure." Good old Ryou, always eager to help, never asking questions. Jonouchi was going to buy him something really, really expensive as soon as he got back to Japan.

"Okay, can you tell him dat Kaiba's gone and dat we need t' find him as soon as possible?"

"Of course." Jou handed the phone to the bewildered driver, who took it and put it to his ear. "Hello, my name is Ryou. I'm a friend of Jonouchi's, and I'll translate for him."

"Thank God," Richard said. "The poor boy's in tears, and I haven't been able to figure out what's wrong with him. I'll put you on speakerphone in the limo, is that okay?"

"Sure," Ryou said, settling himself in for the long haul. Once they were settled in the car, he spoke again. "Now, Jonouchi's been trying to tell you that Mr. Kaiba's gone missing."

"Missing?"

"He ran away this morning and Jou needs you to drive around so you can look for him."

"Won't he come back on his own?" Ryou relayed the question to Jonouchi.

"He says that he thinks Mr. Kaiba is having another attack and that he won't know where he is."

"Damn," Richard growled as he pulled the limo out of the garage. "Another one? We could be searching for days."

"What does he mean?" Jou asked when Ryou translated.

"Mr. Kaiba went missing around this time last year, back when I still worked for him in Japan. His entire staff was out searching for him, but no one had any idea where he'd gone. Mokuba was so worried that he didn't sleep the entire time, but we couldn't find him. Mr. Kaiba showed up on the company doorstep three days later, completely filthy, his clothes torn, and with no memory of where he'd been. It must be aggravating to a genius, being unable to figure out the holes in his own mind."

"I can imagine," Jou muttered to himself.

Jou wasn't sure how long they'd been driving, with him giving directions through Ryou, but he was sure he was running up a hell of a cell phone bill. He didn't care; as long as he got Seto back, nothing else mattered.

Nothing.

oooooOOOOOooooo

Seto was hungry, cold and scared. It was nearly dark, and he hadn't moved from his position near the wall. The flow of human traffic hadn't waned any, just melded from business suits to clubbing outfits. A few women had thrown suggestive comments at him, invitations to share their beds, and as much as he would have liked to be warm, he knew Master would be angry if he went home with someone without permission. So he just whimpered and buried his face in his knees, praying that they'd leave him alone. They'd all snorted in disgust at him and stalked away, wobbling unsteadily on their stiletto heels.

He couldn't remember a time he'd been more miserable. The early February weather was frigid, and he was only wearing a light jacket. He curled up, tucking his hands behind his knees in an effort to keep them from freezing. A kindly-looking old Asian woman walking her schnauzer and carrying a bag of groceries paused in front of him, kneeling down to look the man in the face. "Poor dear," she said sympathetically, patting his arm. "You look half-dead." The dog sniffed at Seto cautiously and licked his hand. "Haven't I seen you somewhere before?"

Seto could only stare at her. "I'm very sorry, I don't understand English," he said.

"You speak Japanese?" She seemed startled by that. Seto nodded; finally someone he could understand.

"What are you doing out here in the cold?" she asked as the dog huddled near Seto, its little body radiating a comforting warmth.

"I'm waiting for my daddy."

She blinked, thrown by such a childish reference from a man who looked to be in his early twenties. Perhaps he was mentally handicapped, and he'd just wandered off. "What's your name, dear?"

"Kaiba Seto."

_Kaiba Seto?_ The name struck a chord of familiarity with her, but she dismissed it. "My name is Tsuji Emiko. I have an apartment not far from here; you can warm up there, if you'd like, Kaiba-kun."

He smiled at her, and she felt her heart melt; it had been so long since she'd had a child to take care of! And his face was so innocent, so trusting. "Thank you very much, obaa-san." (grandmother)

She helped him to his feet and took his hand. "Would you mind carrying the groceries? I'm afraid my back isn't what it used to be."

"Sure." He took the bag, leaving her with only the leash to hold and they headed down the street.

ooooooOOOOOooooo

Five minutes later, the limo passed an old woman walking with a young brunette and a small black dog. Jou did a double-take, wondering if the brunette could possibly be Seto. No, Seto hated dogs (and old people, Jou was fairly certain). Not to mention, carrying an old lady's groceries home was a very un-Seto-like thing to do.

oooooOOOOOooooo

"Where are you from, Seto-chan?" Emiko asked, handing the shivering boy a cup of tea. He accepted it with a grateful smile, pulling the blanket tighter around him.

"I'm from Domino," he said. "How about you?"

"Tokyo, originally," Emiko answered, walking stiffly to the kitchenette to stir the soup. It was a small apartment, only three rooms, with the living room, kitchen and dining area practically on top of each other. The other two rooms were the bedroom and bathroom, both only large enough to accommodate one person, but Seto could sleep on the couch if it came to that. "Why were you out on the streets? New York is a dangerous place for someone as handsome as you."

"New York? We're in New York?"

"Yes, dear, where'd you think we were?"

"I..." Seto shook his head, bewildered. How had he gotten to America? Why? "I don't know..."

Poor thing, he looked so confused. He didn't seem handicapped, though, just very childlike. He spoke perfectly, he was smart, he seemed completely normal. Except, of course, for the fact that he had the mental age of a child and the body of an adult.

His shoulders were shaking, Emiko realized, and she went to comfort him, drying her hands on her apron. Silent tears streamed down his face and he was curled up again, sobbing dismally into his knees. She rubbed his back reassuringly. "There, there, it's alright. We'll find your daddy, Seto-chan."

"No, i-it's n-not that," he hiccupped. "I'm a-already sosososo l-late for my m-meeting with Master, he's going to be so angry with me..."

"Master?" Emiko echoed. "What are you talking about?"

"K-Kamimura Yutou," Seto sniffled. "I-I was supposed t-to meet him this morning, b-but I woke up on the street, a-and he's going to be mad, and D-daddy's going to be mad, and—"

"Kamimura Yutou?" Emiko echoed. "Now what does a little thing like you want with him?"

"You know him?" Seto's eyes glimmered with faint hope."

"Of course I know him, he's my late husband's employer. He lives down the block."

"He does?" Seto leapt up. "Take me to him, please obaa-san! I have to see him!"

She clucked her tongue at him scoldingly. "Kamimura-sama will still be there after you eat. The soup's almost ready; I'll take you to him after dinner."

Seto grinned, the tears still streaking his face evidently forgotten. "Thank you so much, obaa-san!" He threw his arms around her chubby frame, hugging her for all he was worth.

"Oh, you," she said, teasingly smacking him with the ladle she held. "Go wash up for dinner. The bathroom's right over there."

Seto grinned and bounded off. He was going to see Master!

ooooooOOOOoooooo

Eleven o'clock came and went, and Richard had to go home. There was nothing else for Jou to do but go back to the hotel and wait. Wait and hope, pray, that Seto was safe, that nothing had happened to him, and that he'd find him tomorrow. It was nearly midnight now, and Jou's eyes were bleary with sleep. He rubbed them stubbornly, determined to stay awake, just in case Seto came back.

Where had he gone?

The tears were streaming down his tanned cheeks before he could stop them. He clasped a hand over his mouth, rocking back and forth and hugging his pillow. He missed Seto; he was worried and scared, and the worst part of all was that Seto hated him.

He _was_ just like them. He'd taken advantage of a drunken Seto, ignoring every instinct inside him that screamed for him to stop. Seto had cried and screamed and why hadn't he taken any notice? Why hadn't he thought about what it would do to Seto? He'd wanted to help, Seto had to realize that. He'd fully intended for their first time to be gentle, to ease Seto back into being comfortable with sex, but a mixture of the alcohol and Seto's near-incoherent begging for Jou to do him harder, faster, had driven him to the drunken violence he'd sworn he'd never indulge in. He had enough experience with what alcohol could do to people with his father; he should have realized...

He'd wanted to make love to him, and he'd ended up fucking him. He thought Seto had enjoyed it, but...it appeared that he was wrong.

How on Earth could he make up for this?

He slammed his fist against the wall, wincing at the lance of pain that shot down his wrist. Blood flecked his skin where the rough plaster of the wall had torn at him and he cradled his wounded hand to his chest licking up the blood and waiting for the pain to ebb.

It did, finally, but the ache in his chest was still there, the guilt still sat like a rock in his stomach. He'd screwed up, and all he could do was hope that Seto let him fix it.

(A/N: Oookay, Seto's other personality has issues...you'll find out exactly what issues next chapter! Ja ne, minna-san!)


	11. Master

Chapter Eleven:

Firey Charizard: Not my first, not my last, but my first _posted_ to be sure. Heh. Oh, and just submit your request in your review.

Calico Avengi: Make you cry? No, we wouldn't wanna do thaaat...and no, I don't particularly think mental disorders are cute either. They just...work. And HERE'S the damn link! I hate ! http : www . fanart - central. net / pictures . php ? pid 131097

chittyco: (pats you on the head) There, there. It's okay. Reports don't mean anything. Yaoi is more important. Er, and yeah, I'll do fanart requests. You get the 60 review fanart! Just submit the request in your review.

The Summer Stars: (pokes you) What fanart do you want? Do you even want one? I'm glad you liked Emiko...I just kinda wanted an old lady with a dog...(shrugs) Don't worry, there'll be more Ryou and Bakura. Oh, yes.

Moonlight: Okay, you made me cry. Seriously. I'm glad you liike my style so much! Wah!

mandapandabug: as always, thanks for the suggestions, love. Yes, we'll have an angel/master conflisct soon, don't you worry...Jou angst next chappie...

Nikyo: (blushes) I'm glad the lemon didn't suck. And no, Seto is NOT a whore.

Kumori Sakusha: Thanks so much! You think I'm talented? Yaay!

* * *

(Just a note, minna-san...this happens _before_ the last scene with Jou...sorry to keep switching on you, but I didn't want to have to start a whole new day...so it's about eight o'clock when this is happening, and Jou's still out searching for Seto, so...enjoy! It get's a little lemony, but nothin' too graphic...mostly Seto-torture, mentally of course...don't look so disappointed, minna, it's not with Jou!)

"This is an unexpected surprise." Yutou flicked his blonde hair away from his face, lounging against the doorway casually. "Tsuji-san, I haven't seen you since—"

"My husband's funeral; I know." Emiko didn't trust Yutou. There was something vaguely reptilian about the man, as if he were a snake lying in wait. Wait for what, though, that was the question. "I came to return something."

"Something?"

"I found him this evening on Broadway while I was walking Shibu."

"Shibu?"

"My dog." She tugged on Seto's sleeve, pulling him into Yutou's line of sight. "All he's been talking about since I picked him up is you, my dear."

"Kaiba?" This was the first time Seto had ever seen Yutou anything less than composed. "What—how—"

"Master!" Seto launched himself at Yutou. "I waited and waited, 'cause, see, I knew you'd be mad if I went home with someone else, but obaa-san was so nice and she knew you!" He wrapped his arms around Yutou's neck, burying his face in the older man's chest. "I missed you, Master..."

"I haven't been able to get anything else out of him," Emiko shrugged. "Seto-chan, feel free to come over if you ever need anything."

"Arigatou, obaa-san!" Seto said, still clinging to Yutou. As he swung the door shut, Emiko caught the cold smirk on the man's face and she shuddered. She wondered if Seto had any idea what he was getting himself into.

"Am I right in guessing that this is my little dragon I'm talking to?" Seto nuzzled into the hollow of his throat.

"Who else?"

"That other personality of yours can be a bitch sometimes, you know that?"

"Oh, don't be so mean," Seto said. "He's just scared of you."

"And you're not, little dragon?"

Seto smiled shyly as Yutou pushed him down onto the couch. "Of course not."

"Mm...it's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Yutou, I—"

"Shut up," Yutou snapped, temper flaring from tranquility to anger in less than a second. "You're forgetting already, aren't you?"

"F-forgetting?"

A sharp slap echoed in the apartment and Seto whimpered, clutching his reddened cheek. Yutou jerked a hand towards him, as if to hit him, and Seto cringed. "That's right," he said, lowering his hand to run it along the ridge of Seto's cheekbone. "That's the face I remember."

"I-I'm sorry..."

Another slap, and Seto couldn't hold back the cry that escaped his lips as he fell back onto the pillows. "No speaking, _pet_," he hissed. "Or do you need another lesson?" Teeth closed on Seto's ear, biting down hard and Seto threw his head to the side, trying to break away from the hold Yutou had on his ear. "You'd enjoy that, wouldn't you?"

Seto looked away, and at times like this he so resembled his other side that it was sometimes hard to differentiate between the two. The same stubborn set of the jaw, the same glare boring a hole in the back of the couch, the same half-sneer that exposed perfect white teeth. _That_ was the side that intrigued Yutou, but it was so rare that he got to see him now. He'd accustomed himself to this cheery, clingy, younger version of Kaiba. It was the same gorgeous, streamlined body he remembered, the same voice screaming, pleading for release, the same hands sliding along his back, digging in with close-cut fingernails. Everything he loved about Kaiba, if a little more irritating.

"You're so damn sexy," Yutou hissed as he rid Seto of his shirt, and then the thin dress pants he wore. Seto's cobalt eyes transferred their furious glare to him, and he was just so fucking impertinent that Yutou had no choice but to backhand him. The signet ring he wore split Seto's lip, and a thin trickle of blood wound its way down his chin. Yutou leaned over, tongue flicking out to clean up the offending substance and Seto pressed himself further into the cushions, shrinking away from the man kneeling above him.

"Struggling is pointless, you know that. Why bother?"

"Because I-I don't want to. I just wanted to see you, Master, and every time we end up like this..."

"Are you complaining?" There was a warning hand on his throat, pressing just enough that the threat was clearly understood.

"Why do you do this? I just don't understand..."

"Because you're bad, Kaiba. You know that. You're a bad boy, aren't you? A very, very bad boy."

Seto flinched. "No..."

"No? Shall I remind you, then, my little whore?" Yutou spat the last word at him as he flipped Seto over and shoved him roughly into the cushions.

"No!" Seto screamed into the cushions. Not this, not again...

"And bad boys have to be punished, don't they?"

"I'm not bad!"

"You ran away from me, Kaiba! I haven't seen you in seven years!"

"Seven...? I didn't...I mean, I don't remember..."

"Am I not good enough for you?" Yutou hissed. "After I took care of you...protected you from that sick bastard you called a father...I didn't ask much in return, did I?" Rough, insistent fingers sliding inside him, stretching already-sore muscles and reopening a wound he didn't know was there. "Did I?"

"Ahhn!" Seto arched his back, sinking his fingers into the cushion as Yutou seated himself deep inside the familiar body. It hurt more than he remembered; why would that be? If he really had been away from Yutou for seven years, his body would have healed...he wouldn't be used to it anymore...

"Answer my question!" A sharp thrust wrung a pitiful cry from Seto's lips, tears rolling down his cheeks as his body protested the violation.

"N-no!" he gasped. "No, Master, please! You didn't ask too much, just please stop!"

"What's the matter, little dragon, not enjoying yourself? I don't think you've performed well enough to earn any sort of pleasure, have you?"

"I don't want...please...just stop..."

"If you're that insistant." Yutou's fingers wrapped around Seto, the gentle rhythm a sharp contrast to his pounding thrusts and Seto found himself unwillingly seeking his master's touch, even as he clutched the pillows and cried.

"Ahh...hnn...master..." he hissed. His hips bucked involuntarily as Yutou found that spot deep inside him, the spot that sent fire dancing behind his vision, blinding him in a rush of heat. "Master!"

"What is it, little dragon? What do you need?"

He cried and begged and twisted his body into Yutou's touch, the tears spotting the pillow below his face. "I need you! Please, just let me—ahhn!"

Yutou stopped and Seto whimpered in frustration. Cold fingers ghosted over the back of his neck. "What's this?"

"Hnn?"

Fingernails sunk into raw flesh and Seto gasped in pain. "Ow!"

"I asked you what this was."

"I don't know," Seto whispered. "I can't see it."

"It's a bite-mark, Kaiba. Whose?" His tone was light, cordial, and utterly terrifying. His fingers swirled gently across Seto's back, a silent threat, a reminder that he was there.

"I—I don't—I mean—"

"Who have you been fucking?"

"I haven't!" Seto cried. "Not without your permission, Master, I'd never do that!"

"You're lying."

"I'm not! I don't remember, I swear! Maybe it was mou hitori no boku?"

"Do you think I'm stupid? He's too scared of people to do anything." Yutou leaned forward, growling into Seto's ear. "You know I won't tolerate this kind of behaviour, don't you?"

"But—I didn't—!"

"Don't lie to me!" Seto cringed, unable to escape the harsh tone, since the man was still buried deep in his body. It was a compromising position, and Seto was trapped, paralyzed with fear. "You're only making it worse on yourself."

"But I _wouldn't_!" Furious tears slid down his cheeks. He wanted to explain, he wanted Master to listen to him, because he was telling the truth, he'd never be unfaithful...

"And why's that?" A serpentine hiss, Yutou's hot breath tickling the hairs on the back of Seto's neck as he drew out of him and flipped Seto onto his back, shoving him into the cushions. "Filthy little _whore_, why should I believe you?"

"Because I'm not lying," Seto whimpered. "I know better. You taught me better."

"I had hoped so," Yutou replied simply. "It seems that in our separation you've forgotten some of the more..._vital_ lessons. Rest assured, they _will_ be taught again. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't pound your ass into the couch for this. I can make it hurt so badly you won't walk for a week, you know that."

No, no, one time through training was enough, he'd hated it the first time... "Please, I didn't—I _couldn't_—"

"Why?" Yutou's fingers sunk into his shoulders, tearing skin with short-clipped nails that felt like glass. "Why wouldn't you?"

"I—" Seto choked.

"You what?"

Seto flushed and focused his gaze on the back of the couch, obviously embarrassed. He squirmed, uncomfortable under Yutou's critical gaze, and the elder man was bemused by the fact that the blush spread down that tight, tempting body in a rather enticing manner. Ah, but this was no time to be thinking about that. Seto needed to be reminded of whom he belonged to. Yutou smiled. That was it, hmm? He would never be able to leave again.

"You love me, don't you?"

Seto's eyes flicked upwards to meet his for an instant before he realized his mistake a demurely looked downwards again. "I—how did you—"

"You're sick."

Seto flinched. "I—I'm not—"

Yutou leaned forward, resting his weight on hi elbows. "Falling in love with someone who beats you and rapes you until you can't move? The man who took your virginity when you were fourteen? You're more screwed-up than I thought you were. Did you _like_ what I did to you?"

"No, I—"

"I never really had you pegged for the masochistic type." A grin spread lazily across the elder man's handsome face. "And I thought I knew you so well." Seto screwed his eyes shut and turned his face away, pain wrought on his perfect features. "You don't honestly expect me to love you back, do you?" When he was met with silence he brought his hand down sharply on Seto's flank and the boy whimpered at the stinging slap. "Answer me, _pet_."

"I—I hoped—"

"That I felt the same?"

"You kept me around." Seto's tone was pleading, as if he were trying to convince himself that Yutou was lying, that he _did_ care about him...

"After all the effort I put into training you? Of course I did. You're my slave, Seto." The boy whimpered and cringed, as if Yutou had hit him again. "Does the truth hurt? I own you, and I'm not going to throw you away until you're of no use to me anymore."

"What use am I to you now? If you hate me that much, let me go. I'm sure you could find someone else just like me..."

"You're rather unusual, Kaiba. And I never said I hated you..." Yutou trailed a lazy finger over Seto's chest, toying with his nipples on the way down. "I just don't give a shit about what you feel. Who would? You're no better than a whore."

"I'm not a whore." It was a pitiful, whispered defense, but it was enough to earn another blow.

"You're right. You're _my_ whore."

And that night, as Yutou pounded into him relentlessly, Seto didn't fight. He didn't beg, didn't plead, didn't even bother speaking. He lay unmoving on the couch, staring straight ahead as the tears streamed down his face, his dead, unseeing eyes glazed over with pain, because it hurt. It hurt that the man he'd loved for so long couldn't stand him, it hurt that he'd even found out, and it hurt that he'd laughed at him. But what did it matter? Seto was just a whore.

No one cared.

oooooooOOOOOOOoooooooo

"Jou, I don't know what you should do."

Jou scrubbed at his face, wiping away the tears. "Neither do I, Yuug. I looked everywhere, I can' think of anywhere else t' go. I'm jus' so worried 'bout him. He's lost an' scared out dere, and I can' stand da thought of someone pickin' him up..."

"Jonouchi, I'm sure Kaiba can take care of himself," Yami assured him.

"I dunno...he's been so off lately, 'm worried 'bout him..." Jou flopped dismally onto the bed, ignoring the loud growl of protest his stomach gave. He hadn't eaten all day, hadn't had the time, and he could care less. His next meal would be with Seto, he'd decided, and he'd be damned if he gave in to something as trivial as an empty stomach. "Somethin's wrong, but he won' talk t' me, so dere's not a whole lot I c'n do..."

"Yami, could I talk to Jou for a minute?"

"Of course, aibou." Jou heard a click as Yami set down his extension. "Jou," Yuugi began, then paused.

"Yeah?"

"I was just thinking...you've been beating yourself up a lot lately because of Seto."

"I'm—"

"Don't," Yuugi cut it. "Just hear me out, okay? I think it's great that you want to help him and all, but I just want you to be sure it's worth it. I know you haven't been eating lately, and you're not sleeping enough, and you always seem distracted. I know you're worried, but I'm concerned that you're taking too much on. Not only that, but maybe Seto's becoming too dependent on you?"

"I can' just leave him like dis. You don' know, Yuug, you haven' seen him scared and shiverin' and cryin' and beggin' me not t' do what dose bastard friends a' Gozaborou's did t' him. It's not fair dat someone should hafta go through all dat alone."

"I know," Yuugi said wearily. "I just want you to take care of yourself, too. I know how much you care about him, Jou. I wouldn't dream of asking you to give him up, just don't get so wrapped up in him that you forget about you."

"I won'," Jou assured him. "And, Yuug?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks. Now get some sleep, Jou, isn't it one in the morning over there?"

"Yeah," Jou laughed. "You're righ'. You think he'll come back?"

"Wherever he is, I'm sure he will."

ooooooooOOOOOOOooooooooo

When Seto woke up, he had no idea where he was. He was cold, shivering, curled up under a blanket on a park bench, squinting into blinding sunlight. Passersby cast him venomous glares, and he was sure he looked homeless, sleeping in the middle of a park like that.

Oh, his head hurt. He glanced down at his watch, startled to find that it was nine in the morning. February fourth? But...it had been the second when he slept with Jou, the morning of the third when he ran out...

He was losing it. He was missing a day. Everything from early morning of the third to now...he couldn't remember anything. It was black. Gone. _Oh, God, I'm insane_.

He stood, wrapping the blanket around himself, and wondered where it had come from. It wasn't from the hotel, it was a soft, simple black fleece, and there was no company crest on it. He'd never seen it before in his life. He took a step and cried out when pain shot up his lower back and legs, nearly causing him to lose his balance. He hadn't been expecting that.

He'd been able to run the morning after he and Jou had...so why did it hurt now? It didn't make any sense; his entire body hurt, and his ass was sore. What on earth ha he been _doing_ this last day?

"Excuse me, are you Seto Kaiba?" Seto whirled around and came face-to-face with a uniformed police officer, brandishing what looked like a photograph of Seto clipped from an American newspaper.

"Yes, yes I am," Seto said in crisp English. "What's the matter, officer...Danials?" he asked, with a quick glance at the cop's nametag.

The cop shrugged. "I don't know, sir. A man called Richard reported you missing. Normally we make them wait 48 hours to file a missing persons report, but we made an exception for you, Mr. Kaiba. We've been looking for you all night."

"Richard?" God bless that limo driver; Seto was going to give him a raise as soon as he got back to the hotel.

"Right this way, sir, we'll drive you back to your room."

"Thank you."

"If you don't mind my asking, where have you been?" The officer opened the passenger seat door for Seto and the brunette climbed in.

"I...don't remember."

"So," Danials said once he'd slid into the driver's seat. "What're you doing in America?"

"Vacation," Seto said curtly, not interested in making polite conversation with the officer.

"My kid's a big fan a' yours," Danials said, unfazed. "You and that Yuugi kid. It'd mean a lot to him if I could get your autograph." He nodded towards a slip of paper sitting on the dashboard. "Pen's in the glove compartment, Mr. Kaiba."

Seto scribbled his name quickly, then glanced down at it and realized the kid didn't read Japanese. "What's his name?"

"Jake," the cop replied proudly. "He's the funniest little thing; makes me and his mother stop whatever we're doing every time you come on TV. He's got tapes of all your duels, he memorizes your strategies, he's even tried to copy your deck. 'Course the re-releases of the White Dragon-things aren't as powerful as the Japanese ones, or so he tells me."

Seto shook his head. Stupid kid. Of all people to idolize..."Does he?"

"Yeah. All he talks about, really. He wants to beat you and Yuugi someday. It's a dream of his, I guess. I don't know." Danials laughed. "When I was a kid, I wanted to be an astronaut. Times sure have changed, huh?"

"I suppose."

"Hey," Danials said as he pulled up to the curb and Seto stared up at the hotel with no small measure of relief. "You got any tips I could give Jake? Keeps getting his butt beat by the kids at school."

"Yeah," Seto said, opening the door and handing Danials the signed paper. "Tell him to find a new hero." And he left the poor officer staring after him, quite confused.

ooooooooOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooo

Someone was pounding at the door, and it made Jonouchi very, very unhappy. He hadn't gone to sleep until two last night (this morning?), and the jet lag was screwing with him. He dragged himself out of bed and shuffled towards the door once it became evident that whoever was out there was _not_ going to leave him alone.

"Look, the room's not even dirty, come back in a few hours," he mumbled as he twisted the doorknob.

"That's a hell of a way to greet me."

"Seto?" Jou stared, frozen, hand still on the door. They stared at each other for the longest moment, cobalt boring into startled amber, and then Jou launched himself at his koi's chest. "Oh my _God_, you're okay, I was so worried 'bout you, I looked for ya all day, and...where were you?" He buried his face in Seto's chest, breathing in his scent. "I was afraid somethin' happened to you. Seto, I-I'm so sorry. You have t' believe me, I never meant t' hurt you. I thought you—"

"Can we have this conversation inside, please?"

"Oh, sure, c'mon in." Jou released him and stepped aside. "Are you alrigh'?"

Seto sniffled. "A cold, nothing serious, puppy."

"Good."

Seto sat down in a plush armchair and watched Jou, who stood awkwardly at the entrance to the suite. "Sit down, mutt, you're giving me a neckache."

"Sorry," Jou mumbled, dropping into the chair across from the brunette. "About...yeah," he began, fiddling nervously with the hem o his shirt. "I'm sorry."

"You said that already." God, his voice was so _cold_, he seemed so angry...

"I-I know it was a stupid thing t' do. I shouldn' have, and I undastand if ya don' wanna see me again—"

"Don't be absurd." Seto stretched out an arm. "Come here, Jou."

Jou. Not 'puppy.' Not 'mutt.' _Jou_. Never had his name sounded so beautiful. He obeyed, settling himself in Seto's lap with a faint blush. "It's alright."

"What?" He glanced up at Seto, astonished. "But I—you—I took advantage of you, even though I knew—"

"I was afraid this would happen," Seto sighed, burying his face in Jou's hair. "I leave and you manage to convince yourself that everything's your fault. You have a habit of doing that, you know."

"I—"

"Was drunk. So was I. It's alright. I'd just rather we...take things slowly from here on out, yes?"

Jou's golden eyes were brimming with tears and he gave a grateful sob, flinging his arms around Seto's neck. "Alrigh'," he agreed. "Dat's fine wit' me."

And it was. Everything was finally all right. Seto was back, he was safe, Jou was forgiven...Jou's stomach growled loudly and Seto arched a quizzical eyebrow at him. "Don't tell me you haven't eaten since I left?"

Jou grinned sheepishly.

THE END

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No, not really! Just kidding! There's still a ways to go, minna! Gomen, but I couldn't resist! Yes, yes, I'm evil...I know. (laughs)

Seto: You moron.

Jou: (whacks authoress) You made me girly!


	12. Stalking is Illegal

Chapter Twelve

chittyco: Jonouchi? Just Jonouchi? Okay...

Nikyo: Yes, yes, I know. Seto is not a whore.

The Summer Stars: (snickers) I couldn't resist...and yes, it was a bit disturbing.

setokaibawheeler: You hate when authors are like that? (cries)

Firey Charizard: I'd be happy to do that fanart for you. So kawaii...

Enzya: Yes, well, I try...

mandapandabug: Um...I dunno about _another_ personality...I'm having issues with pronouns as it is, and I'm thinking of giving mou hitori no Seto another name, just to avoid confusion...thanks for your suggestions, though.

Faegirl: I've been duct-taped! Wah! (waves a Jou/Seto flag along with you)

Rosalyn Angel: (giggles) Thank you, finally someone who appreciates Yutou's evil sessyness...yes, he _is_ hot...I'll draw a picture, sometime...and actually, Yutou owns the block. All the apartment buildings and whatnot.

Moonlight: I entranced someone! (does a jig o' joy)

Calico Avengi: (grins innocently at you) It's my sotry, I can do what I want to...(is singing horribly off-pitch)

* * *

"So you have no idea where you were?" Jou stirred cream into Seto's coffee with a spoon, adding a rather insane amount of sugar, which he doubted Seto would appreciate, but it seemed that his koi needed something just to stay awake.

Seto sneezed and accepted the cup gratefully. "No."

"Kinda odd, don'tcha think?" Jou flopped down on the couch next to him and the coffee in Seto's cup jumped, finally settling into a spastic set of ripples sloshing wildly at the rim.

"Hn." Seto took a long sip of the sweetened liquid, wincing at the taste. "No clue. You know, not everyone is a sugar addict like you."

"Stop complainin' and make your own coffe, den. Anyways, I think you owe me an explanation, don' you?"

"Expla—" Seto sneezed again "—nation?" he asked, grabbing a tissue from the box in front of him and blowing his nose. "About what?"

"About what's goin' on wit' you." Jou folded his arms over his chest and wished that Seto looked less pathetic when he was sick. It might have been easier to get mad at him for being so damn stubborn. Just as Jou was about to yell at him Seto would give him this look, this sad, abandoned-puppy look that Jou _knew_ was unintentional, but it worked anyways. He couldn't stay mad. "You want me t' call a doctor?"

"I'm fine. And you can't, anyways. You don't speak English."

"Thanks for rubbin' dat in. An' I'm not leavin' you alone until you tell me exactly why we're here and exactly what happened."

"You think that's really an incentive for me to tell you?" Seto gave him a weak half-smile as he sniffled miserably and snuggled into Jou's embrace. "I've never had anyone take care of me when I was sick."

"Really?" Jou eased the brunette's head into his lap and began stroking his hair absently. "Not even Mokuba?"

Seto shrugged, closing his eyes and relaxing with a small, contented sigh. "He always had school."

"Oh. Can you tell me anyways?"

Seto snorted. "Why would I do that?"

"'Cause you feel like bein' nice?" Jou suggested helpfully. Seto laughed.

"I don't want to spoil the mood, pup. I'll tell you tonight, how's that?"

Jou gave a dramatic sigh and leaned back heavily on the couch. "Fiiiine," he relented. "But only if you let me cook for you."

"Dear God."

ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooo

Actually, Jou was a good cook. Seto supposed it was from all those years of caring for his father; he was quite talented as far as the culinary arts were concerned. "Damn, pup," he said, pushing himself back from the table. "What the hell are you doing in business? You should have your own restaurant."

Jou blushed. "Thanks," he mumbled, finishing up the last of the salmon he'd made. Seto leaned over on the pretense of grabbing his dirty plate, then kissed him gently on the cheek in what Jou found to be an adorably shy manner. Seto could be so cute sometimes.

"So, you gonna tell me now?" Jou asked as he scrubbed the dishes. Seto flopped down on the couch and flicked on the television, marveling at the bizarre normalcy of it all. Jou, washing dishes in the kitchen (Seto had offered to call a maid and he'd refused) and Seto sitting on the couch watching TV. All they needed was a golden retriever, 2.5 kids, and a white picket fence, and they'd be a perfect all-American family. Okay, so maybe they needed a sex change for Jou, but hey, this was America. Things like that seemed more common here.

"Seto, are you listenin' t' me?" Jou waved the towel he'd been using to dry his hands in front of Seto's face. He ever sounded like a nagging housewife. Seto grinned cheekily at him, and pulled him into his lap.

"Yes, dear," he purred, nuzzling Jou's neck. Jou flushed and pushed him away.

"Stop dat! I'm tryin' t' be serious here! Tell me before I—I—" He flicked the towel threateningly at Seto.

"You'll what? Bludgeon me to death with a washcloth?"

"Seeeetoooo!"

Seto cringed; Jou had a terrible habit of whining just like Mokuba when he wanted something. It was eerie to realize that your boyfriend had the same mannerisms as your little brother.

"Fine, fine," Seto relented. He flicked off the television. "But you have to promise not to hit me with that." He gestured to the cloth still clutched in Jou's fist.

Jou hit him. "Be serious."

"Okay, okay. This is kind of awkward, but I—Jou, I've got split personalities."

Silence.

"You got what?" Jou asked after a minute. His face was blank, Seto couldn't quite tell exactly what his puppy was thinking, so his mouth just kept moving, hoping to delay the explosion as long as possible. He'd been enjoying this so much, enjoying just _being _with someone who wasn't terrified of him and his reputation; it was a shame to end it over something like this...

"Split personalities. MPD. I know you took psychology classes, so you know what that is."

Jou laughed.

Seto blinked at him. He hadn't been expecting _that_ reaction. Shock, horror maybe, but not amusement, certainly. "Dat's what's been botherin' you?" Jou gasped after a few moments, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. "_Dat's_ what you been so afraid t' tell me?"

Seto's temper flared and he shoved Jou roughly off his lap. "It's not funny, mutt."

"No, it's not dat," Jou giggled. "You honestly thought I'd care about somet'in like dat? Damn, Seto, I thought my best friend had split personalities until I met Yami. I don' care."

"Really?" Seto tilted his head to the side. This was going better than he'd anticipated. "You mean—it doesn't creep you out?"

"Doesn' exactly get me off, either, but it doesn' matter t' me. I like you jus' da way you are, issues and all."

"But...I mean...it's not like a yami," Seto said. "I mean, Yuugi and Yami are actually different people, and this...it's just me. Another side of me."

"Well, Marik's not a yami either. He jus' got his own body 'cause a dat Rod thing. I don' really undastand all dat magic stuff, but Malik's as crazy as dey come, and he's still my friend."

"I suppose..." Seto wasn't entirely convinced. This wasn't supposed to happen. Jou was supposed to be angry, scared, whatever, but not calm. He shouldn't be taking this so well.

"Have you eva met him? It _is_ a him, right?"

"I...I think so. And no, I haven't. Kind of hard; when he's conscious, I'm not."

_Conscious_? Jou's brow furrowed and something triggered, a memory of not too long ago; he spent a few moments lost in thought before it clicked. "Afta dat party! When I had t' take you home and you were havin' dat attack! Dat was the otha you!"

"You've met him? What attack?"

"Afta we saw Yutou at your company party thing. You went all creepy and started talkin' like you were about ten years old. Den Aizawa-san said he drugged you so you wouldn' hurt yourself, and I went in dere. I thought it was jus' the drugs, but Aizawa said you shouldn' even be conscious afta dat. I talked to him, Seto."

"Did you? What was he like?"

"He was...scared. Like a little kid. He wouldn' let me touch him. He...he said he was dirty, and ugly, and that dere wasn' any way I could be his boyfriend 'cause I was so pretty." He didn't mention the angel thing, and he wasn't sure why. It was absurd to think of talking with Seto about his other personality's weakness as betraying that child-Seto, but he did, and it seemed unfair. He'd be the child's angel if that's what it took, but it just wasn't right to discuss it with this Seto.

Seto flinched and looked away, only to have Jou force his chin up with gentle fingers. "Is that what they told you?" he asked quietly, his calm amber gaze soothing, and his accent, once again, gone. "That you were ugly, worthless? Do you believe that?"

Seto closed his eyes, ashamed, and nodded miserably. "Yeah."

"Oh, Seto," Jou sighed, pulling his koi's head to his chest. "There's so much you haven't told me...so much pain you won't let me near...it's not true, you know that?"

"What isn't?" Seto mumbled into Jou's shirt.

"You're beautiful. You're so beautiful."

Seto's eyes widened, and he found that he was blinking away tears. He sniffled, firmly telling himself that it was because of his cold, and burrowed further into Jou's chest. Seto broke down and Jou held him while he cried, firm, comforting arms wrapped around him, whispering in his ear, washing away, at least for the time being, everything they'd told him, everything he'd believed for so long...that he was dirty, worthless, of no value to anyone. Silent, anguished sobs shook his powerful frame and he was a child again, running to his mother with a bloody knee so she could make it all better and make him stop hurting.

He did remember his mother. Not well, but enough to sustain him those long, cold nights when he cried and held himself and considered ending it, ending the pain, he could make it look like an accident...but just the memory of her gentle face (she looked like Mokuba, she was so pretty) reminded him that someone had cared, someone had loved him once, and he owed it to her to keep fighting, to stay strong for her and his father and his little brother. For Mokuba.

"_Mommy!" A panicked, fearful wail and Natsuko whirled around, skirt fluttering behind her and black hair flying, dashing towards her son. _

"_Seto! What is it, what's the matter?" The four-year-old's eyes were filled with tears as he gazed up at his mother, hands clasped over his knee and blood leaking out between his fingers. _

"_I tripped and I fell, mommy, and all this red stuff started coming out. It hurts, fix it!"_

_Natsuko laughed as she gently pried Seto's fingers away from his knee, expertly wiping away the blood with a handkerchief fished from her purse. "Oh, baby, it's okay. It'll heal."_

"_But mommy, it hurts..." Seto trailed off, staring intently at his knee marveling at the fact that there was only a raw pink mark where the terrifying crimson fluid had been moments before. It ached a little, but the blood had been the scariest part. _

_Natsuko swung Seto up onto her hip, being careful that his little feet didn't hit her belly, for fear of disrupting Seto's future baby brother. "Sometimes things hurt, baby. Just get up and keep going, they're never as bad as they seem." She wiped away the tear-tracks on Seto's cheeks with her thumb and kissed the tip of his nose. "You want to feel your little brother kick?" Seto nodded and she set him down, guiding his hand to her stomach. Seto giggled when the baby gave a startled thrash._

"_I felt it, mommy! I felt him kick! When will I get to meet him?"_

_Natsuko smiled at her son and kissed him on the top of his head. "Soon, Seto. Very soon."_

Oh, but this time his mother wasn't here; she was dead and gone, and she couldn't have fixed this anyways. He was almost glad she was dead, just so she didn't have to see what had become of her son. This was so much worse than a skinned knee, and Seto didn't know if anyone could fix it, but it seemed that Jou was willing to try. Seto's grip on Jou's shirt tightened as his sobs trailed off into quiet whimpering, and he just felt so safe here, so protected...

"Shh...it's okay, it's alrigh't, I'm here...shhh..." Jou rocked back and forth with Seto curled in his lap as best he could be, running gentle fingers through Seto's hair. "It's alright, baby, it's alright..."

Seto fell asleep in Jou's lap with those words whispered in his ear and echoing in his dreams.

"_It's alright, baby..."_

For the first time in seven years, Seto didn't wake up screaming.

ooooooooOOOOOOOOooooooo

He hadn't been lying. He _was_ pretty. No. Perhaps that wasn't the right word. Slender, tan, with sun-gold hair and smiling amber eyes, so gentle and happy and calm. Perfect. Beautiful.

But it felt strange to use such feminine words for him. He was seraphic, yes, but there was something about him, in his low, grating laugh and his decidedly masculine habit of leaning over a table to talk to someone, those eyes so fierce and determined that anyone within ten feet was drawn to him, moths to the flame, that defined him as purely, simply, utterly _male_.

He was so animated. When he was happy he was ecstatic, there was no in-between for him. He was never sad, he was distraught, never upset, he was enraged. Such extreme emotions and such a lovely, expressive face. Perhaps that was why he was so enchanting.

No, this was more than a simple enchantment. He knew himself well, and he recognized the signs. A growing obsession, unable to live without it, without him, without knowing how he tasted, how he felt, how he looked when he was writhing and moaning and gasping, in those few moments when a person was most alive and most human.

Yutou couldn't imagine it. That was his problem. That was everything that made him who he was. He couldn't imagine.

He didn't know, couldn't predict how such a beautiful creature would react to his advances, if he would accept Yutou's rather unorthodox nature. He could envision him as a child, small, skinny and tough, as a teenager, awkward and beautiful and unrefined. He could picture him with his family, even though he didn't know any of them, had never even seen them, but he seemed the protective type, fiercely possessive of those he held dear.

But those visions he wanted the most, of gleaming, sweat-slicked skin, of liquid fire rolling over that lovely flesh, of those nimble, slim fingers twisting and grasping at the bedclothes as he moaned...he couldn't imagine it.

He was so different from Kaiba.

It was the eyes, Yutou decided. The eyes. Windows to the soul, ancient cultures seemed to believe, and Yutou believed it too. He wasn't a superstitious man, but it made sense; eyes were easy to read. What did lying children avoid? Meeting their parents' eyes. What was the most intimate way possible to gaze at someone? Looking deep into their eyes.

Jonouchi (oh, how he wished he knew the blonde's first name!) was no exception to the rule. Every emotion was wild, unbridled, unrestrained and it showed. He had the sort of eyes that laughed when he did, that could sharpen into flint before you could blink and all of a sudden you knew you weren't messing with just anyone.

It had struck something deep inside him when those beautiful honey eyes had met his and glared with such fervour, and such venom, that Yutou had quailed away, had barely managed to choke out whatever clever remark he'd tossed a him. At that moment, when all of the resentment and hatred and unease had penetrated, shook him to the very core, he'd realized how much he needed to know more about the blonde.

He needed to know how something so fiery and passionate and _alive_ had come to care for his broken little dragon. Because Seto's eyes were as dead as he was; cold, dispassionate sheets of diamond, not ice, because that barrier couldn't be melted, couldn't be broken. Yutou knew; he'd been responsible for it, after all.

Did he feel guilty for what he'd done to Kaiba? Sometimes.

Did he regret it? Hell, no.

Kaiba had been too beautiful for his own good. Too naïve, too trusting, too delicate and perfect. He'd been exactly like Jonouchi once, long ago. Yutou remembered the day Gozaborou had brought the child home from the orphanage. Even emaciated and shabbily-dressed, Seto had been striking. The gleaming chestnut hair falling in soft curls over the back of his slim, pale neck, the tender, unmarred skin, the softness of voice and the gentle manner in which he handled his little brother had been too much, too tempting.

And those eyes.

Oh, were they hypnotic. A clear, pristine morning blue, as fresh as dew on grass and just as sparkling. He smiled freely and often, at everything and everyone. To Seto every facet of life was a wonder, something to be studied and remembered and cherished, simply because it was so fleeting. Something about that smile warmed Yutou's heart. It always seemed that Seto was smiling at him, just for him, as if nothing else in the world could matter nearly as much as the moment of joy they shared as they watched a ladybug pick his delicate way across a flower, or a bird nestled snug in her tree with her babies tucked under her wings.

But then he could be so sad, and the stark pain on his face was too much for Yutou to handle. Those eyes brimming with tears, that soothing voice hitched with sobs, it was more than he could bear. Everything hurt him, every death of every creature seemed to Seto as if it was a family member than had died. He cried when he read the reports of children abducted, murdered, of families slaughtered in war-torn countries. Eventually they had to keep the morning paper away from him, because he would often go missing all day only to turn up in a corner of the garden sobbing and huddling over a tear-stained copy of the _Domino Times_.

It was that sadness, the care and compassion for everyone and everything that finally drove Yutou to do what he did. It wasn't right that a child should have to go through life with that kind of empathy, that ability to feel other's pain. It wasn't natural and it wasn't fair, and in the business world it would get him killed. Literally or figuratively, Yutou didn't care to find out.

But stripping all that away, teaching him that not everyone was as perfect as he...now that was the challenge Yutou had faced. Oh, he'd been ravaged with guilt over breaking something so delicate, but it was worth it to think of the pain he'd spared Seto in the long run. It didn't take more than a few months before Seto stopped talking and refused to let anyone touch him. Yutou was more gentle after that, spending time with the boy outside of bed, and, he supposed, it really was his own fault that part of Seto loved him.

Yes, he'd taken it slowly, shattering his mind little by little, but the end result had been the same. Seto couldn't understand why anyone would want to hurt him, and so he blamed himself, thinking that it was some flaw in his own nature that made people want to take advantage of him. Because his father approved so strongly of Yutou, always making sure to treat him almost as if he, not Seto, were Gozaborou's adopted son, Seto idolized Yutou, worshipped him.

Or at least his other personality did. It was hard to resent the little dragon; he was so innocent, and it was so easy to tear him up, make him cry, and ten minutes later he'd be back in Yutou's arms, begging forgiveness for something he hadn't even done. Yes, it was hard to turn away from that kind of devotion, but Yutou hated him for coming in between him and the _real_ Seto. The angry, cold, bitter man who denied the existence of his own emotions to the point that it was exceedingly unhealthy. He was breathtaking, so perfect, impossible to shatter. He was Yutou's masterpiece, a work of art, and here that little blond mutt was hell-bent on fucking it all up.

He wanted Jonouchi destroyed. He wanted him broken and cruel and ruthless, just like Seto, because then there would be no chance that he could ruin everything Yutou had worked so hard for. He deserved it, for daring to set foot (methaphorically, of course) on Yutou's property. Because Seto was _his_, and he'd be damned if some punk-ass kid screwed all that up for him.

His grip on the steering wheel tightened and he stared at his own whitening knuckles, gritting his teeth. Calm. Calm down. It wasn't hopeless, not yet. He would break Jonouchi, he would, but who was to say he couldn't have a little fun first?

He was gambling on a short-term memory, hoping that Jonouchi was as much of a trusting airhead as he seemed. He hadn't sense any sort of suspicion from him, and Yutou planned to use that to his advantage. After all, Jonouchi had only seen him once, dressed in a very nice suit, looking clean and perfect and successful.

So he'd thrown on a pair of torn jeans and a rumpled black collared shirt, mussed his hair and donned a flashy pair of sunglasses that he would never wear normally. Combat-boot-clad feet rested on the gas pedal. He held a cigarette clenched between his teeth and he _knew_ he looked good. Gold rings adorned the impatient fingers tapping on the steering wheel as a slow, eerie smile stole across his handsome face and he waited.

He'd seen the blonde enter the convenience store. It was quite a ways away from his hotel room, but it was the only store for blocks that was run and owned by Japanese-speaking people. It was probably difficult to be so far away from everything familiar, even his own language, but he took it well. Wandering down the street, humming happily to himself, wrapped in a warm jacket and scarf, reading directions off of a scrap of paper.

Yutou knew why he was pleased. He flicked an ash from the end of his cigarette and took another long drag on it, savouring the taste of the tobacco before he exhaled it in a rush of smoke. The blonde owed his happiness all to him. After all, it had been _his_ decision to give Seto back. That was undeniably the reason that Jonouchi walked with the proverbial spring in his step. Yutou's lip curled in disgust; the mutt really was in love, wasn't he?

Oh, but this wasn't the time to be debating possible feelings Jonouchi had for his little dragon. Because here he came, the golden-haired Adonis himself, practically glowing as he clutched his purchases to his chest. Yutou edge the red convertible closer to the curb. "Hey."

Jonouchi paused, an adorable confusion flitting across his face. "Do I know you?"

His voice was alluring, so rich and sultry, and...Yutou mentally shook himself. Bad hormones. "Jonouchi-san?"

"Yes, um, who're you?"

"Oh, thank God! I've been looking for you since...well, you'd better get in the car."

Jonouchi edged away from him, the naiveté vanishing in favour of a suspicious frown. So he wasn't as innocent as he seemed. Interesting. "I'm sorry, I've neva met you..."

"I'm one of Kaiba-sama's employees. He sent me to get you—there's been an accident."

"An accident?" Jonouchi's bag crashed to the ground and he didn't bother retrieving it. "Is Seto alright?"

_Hn, so the little bitch is allowed to call him Seto? Silly dragon, what were you thinking?_ "He's in the hospital," Yutou replied, trying to sound as earnest and concerned as possible. "He—the doctors think he tried to kill himself. I'm sorry to be the one that breaks it to you, but he won't speak. He told the doctors he wanted to see you, and then...he just stopped. He just lies there, staring at the ceiling, and we tried the hotel room, but you weren't there."

"I—I told Seto I was goin' t' take a walk—shit, he tried to _kill himself_? Why? What happened? I mean—is he alright?" He was worried, scared; as soon as Yutou had said that, pain had flashed in his eyes, warping that pretty, pretty face.

Jonouchi was practically draped over the car door, with a panicked grip on Yutou's shoulder. "He slit his wrists, but he'll be okay. He lost a lot of blood, and the doctors want to keep him overnight to observe him. Get in the car. I'll take you to him."

"What did you say your name was?" Jonouchi asked, voice shaking, clearly only speaking for the sake of making noise to fill the silence. He slid into the passenger seat and buckled his seatbelt.

"Koyanagi Masato. I'm one of Kaiba-sama's bodyguards."

Jonouchi gave a noise that could have been a whimper. He curled up in his seat and Yutou cast him a bewildered sidelong look, wondering exactly what he was doing. "Um...are you alright?"

Jonouchi lifted his head and tears were streaming down his cheeks his golden eyes clouded over with a tangible agony. He scrubbed at his face with his sleeve. "I'm sorry, it's jus'...I neva thought he'd do somethin' like dis...are you sure he's okay?"

"He's alive, if that's what you mean. If you don't mind my asking, what's your relationship with Kaiba-sama?"

"Hunh? Oh, he's a...friend a' mine. Known him since primary school an' all dat." Jonouchi dropped his head back down, burying his face in his knees. "I thought he was gettin' better...he asked fer me?"

"Mm," Yutou affirmed. "He told us to find you."

oooooooOOOOOoooooo

Horror, shock, pain, Jou didn't know how to describe it. Nothing made any sense anymore, not the mindless chattering of the man driving the car—Koyanagi?—because his Seto was hurt, he was in pain and Jou hadn't been there. Hadn't helped, hadn't been able to stop him. Oh, he'd been so afraid that Seto would try something like this...it was clear that everything wasn't right with him, clear that even his dispassionate façade was fading and that Seto was scared, confused...and alone. Jonouchi had left him on his own, to try to fill the day-long gap in his memory, hoping that he would come back for his walk and that Seto would have remembered where he'd been.

An hour and a half. He'd only been gone an hour and a half. Perhaps Seto _had_ remembered, and the memory was too much for him. What could have happened while he was gone? Where had he been? It was fairly obvious that he hadn't been on the streets all night; he'd gone out with only a light jacket to cover himself, and he would have gotten much more than a simple cold, being out in the freezing February air for that long. Who could have given him shelter?

The car wasn't moving anymore, and Jonouchi glanced up, confused. "Where—"The question died on his lips.

This wasn't a hospital. It wasn't even close. It was an apartment building, a fancy, overexpensive building, complete with a doorman in uniform. Seto wasn't here, where were they, why on Earth would anyone bring a suicidal to an apartment building?

They wouldn't.

Damn him, damn him! He should have known better, should have suspected, but he'd been so worried about Seto, co concerned for his koi's well-being that he hadn't stopped to _think_ long enough to realize how off this was. Why would Seto have an American employee with a Japanese name and a flawless accent? Why would a bodyguard have such an expensive, obtrusive car, especially if he was supposed to be discreet about his profession?

And above all, why had he never heard of Koyanagi Masato?

Koyanagi shot him a grin and removed his sunglasses, shaking his hair back into some sort of order. Jonouchi knew that face, he knew that cocky, arrogant grin, he'd seen it before, but where...?

_Seto had frozen, the glass slipping from his nerveless fingers. Jou reached out to grab it before it smashed on the floor, and managed to slosh the alcohol all over his hands. Wiping them on a napkin he grabbed from the buffet table, he straightened up. "Seto, what's wrong?"_

"_It's ... him ... "  
_

"_Him?" Jou peered at the man who'd presumably sent Seto the drink. "Who is dat?" He grabbed Seto's arm, startled to find that he was shaking fiercely. "Seto, talk t' me. Tell me who he is."_

"_Y—Yutou—"_

"Yutou?"

The lazy smile widened. "Hello, pretty."

And then something was pressed over his nose and mouth, a handkerchief soaked in something rank and chemical..._Chloroform!_ A haze clouded his senses and he fought it, struggling to keep his eyes open as his traitorous body sagged into Yutou's waiting arms. He grabbed the older man's sleeve. "Damn...you...where...are...we...?" His tongue was thick, unresponsive in his mouth.

The last words he heard before he slid into sleep were, "We're home, pretty one."

_Home?_

_Shit._

(A/N: Yeah...a little insight into Yutou's royally fucked-up logic...a bit about why he did the things he did, because I want him to be more than just the creepy rapist in this story. I think it makes much more sense when they have a reason for it.

Jou: Well, great. What now?

Kaida: Now we make mandapandabug very, very happy.

Yutou: (smirks and wraps his arms around Jou) Heh..

Jou: (punches him) Get da hell offa me, you perv!)


	13. Trial By Fire

Chapter Thirteen

Bob the Kiwi Dictator: Ahaha! (laughs madly) I love your name! And, as always, it's wonderful to hear from a new reviewer! Thank you for taking the time to let me know what you think! Hm. Seto with a kitten? (rushes off to draw fanart)

inarae: Like or dislike, as long as I've evoked a strong emotion in you, I consider myself a success. Thanks for reviewing!

Firey Charizard: (huggles Yutou) But we need an evil seme...can we throw him to Marik and Bakura _after_ he messes with Seto a little more? Please?

Smoocher of Evil: I like your name, too. Thanks for reviewing!

chittyco: Inuyasha! Cosplay! Wai! (huggles you)

mandapandabug: Alright, someone as spastic as me! Woot! (dances along with the voice in your head)

icechild13: Um, was that a flame? I don't think so, I'm pretty sure it was just constructive criticism, and very, vey polite criticism at that. If only all flamers were as nice as you! And no, Seto will not be the knight in shining armour. That's Jou's job, and I wouldn't dream of taking it away from him.

Moonlight: Oh he will, he will, Jou's fine. Sort of. And I'm glad you respect the last chapter, even if you don't like it.

Kumori Sakusha: You think I'm amazing? (cries with joy)

Nikyo: Yeah, Seto's other personality is adorable. (blinks) That sounds kinda odd.

* * *

Four hours. Four hours he'd been gone. A walk should _not_ take four hours. Seto turned on his heel, stalking across the living room of his suite with all the furious air of a hunting cat. Jonouchi had been gone far too long, and although he was probably fine, Seto was starting to worry. It was growing dark and something about the idea of Jou out alone at night in a city where no one understood him bothered Seto.

He picked up the phone and stabbed in Jou's cell phone number. _Please pick up._

Ring.

Ring.

_Come on, where are you?_

Ring.

Ring.

"Hey, this is Jonouchi Katsuya—"

"Puppy, I—"

"—I'm not here right now. If you really wanna talk to me dat badly, leave a message and maybe I'll call ya back." _Beep_.

Shit, it was his voice mail. "Jonouchi, this is Seto. I was just calling to ask where you were. It's getting dark and I was going to send Richard out for you—"

"Seto?" A deep voice, one he didn't recognize. It was obvious that whoever had picked up Jou's phone was deliberately pitching their voice an octave lower to disguise it.

"Who the fuck is this?"

"Tsk. Such language." A snicker. "You'd better be nice to me, Kaiba."

"Where is Jonouchi?" Seto's heart pounded in his chest; he was gripping the phone so tight that he could feel the joints in his hand creaking. "Put him on, right now! Who are you?"

"I'm afraid that's quite impossible, Kaiba-san. He's a bit...busy at the moment."

"What do you want?" Seto screamed into the phone. "What the fuck do you want from me?" He had Jou, oh God someone had Jou, _ohmyfuckingGodhe'sgotJou_...if they dared touch a _hair_ on his head, if he came home hurt in any way... "I'll kill you. I don't care who you are, I'll find you and I'll kill you! If you so much as think about touching Jonouchi, I'll rip you apart myself!"

"My, my. He's been such a _bad_ influence on you, Kaiba. You used to be so cold." There was a hint of anger in that voice, and Seto picked up on it. "The question is, what's he worth to you?"

"What?"

"What will you give me to let him go?"

"Let him go unharmed. I'll give you anything. Anything you want."

"That's a very tempting offer, Kaiba. I'll have to get back to you on that. The boy will remain unharmed...for now. I'll call you sometime tomorrow morning. Don't bother tracing this cell phone. I'm getting rid of it as soon as I hang up."

"No, wait, I—"

"Any messages for the little one?"

_Tell him I miss him, tell him I'll get him back, tell him it'll be alright...tell him I love him._ "Don't touch him, you understand me?"

"You're in no position to be making demands." Click.

Seto hurled the phone at the wall with a scream of fury that terrified the people in the room below him so much that they called hotel management. When hotel management realized that Seto Kaiba was staying in that room, they brushed it off with an apology and a nice gift basket; anything was better than facing Mr. Kaiba in one of his moods.

He threw himself on the bed, pounding a fist into the soft mattress. Who on earth could have done this? Jonouchi never came to America, and Seto found himself here rarely, certainly not often enough to make enemies. He wasn't Yami, after all, there weren't psychotic maniacs out seeking retribution for what he'd done millinea ago, and he didn't have a Sennen Item, so...

What did that leave? Someone had been watching him, watching them, enough to pick up on the fact that Jou was walking by himself and that Seto wouldn't expect him back for a while. In fact, by the time he'd realized that Jou had been gone a bit too long, it was already too late.

And what could anyone want with Jou...?

Seto clamped down firmly on that train of thought. Jou was fine. The voice on the phone had promised. He would be safe as long as Seto did what he wanted. He'd promised and Seto was going to fucking _eviscerate_ him if he lied. He'd embrace the fact that his preincarnation was a sorcerer, and get Yami to teach him some of that Shadow magic and _then_ he'd have fun.

Jou had better be safe.

Maybe...it was too strange, too coincidental that Seto went missing the day before Jou did. It had to be the same person behind it, but dammit he couldn't _remember_, everything was blank and oh God, what if he did something to Jou, what if Jou was hurt or raped, or...

Seto stopped himself, willing his heart to slow down. This was no time for a panic attack. He had to be rational, logical, that was the only way they'd both get out of this unscarred. He had to think.

Jou was safe. The only question was how long. He had to find him before the voice's patience ran out. And that meant talking to his other personality.

Oh yes, it sounded insane, but it was the only thing that made any sense. When he blacked out, the other him would be conscious, right? And even if he _did_ have the personality of a child, he'd be able to tell Seto where he had been. At least he hoped so.

Now, how did Yami and Yuugi communicate before they split into separate bodies? He knew that this other—presence, he didn't know what else to call him—wasn't a yami, that no one was even sure if the High Priest's reincarnation _had_ a yami, but maybe he could reach him the same way.

He close his eyes, leaning back against the headboard and resting his palms flat on his knees in the meditation position he'd been taught when he was younger. He drew breath and let it out slowly, calming himself, banishing fear and worry and anything else that might get in the way of his concentration. _Hello?_

Silence. It was dark with his eyes closed, although it seemed more to Seto like he was in a cold, lightless room rather than on a comfortable bed with his eyes shut. In fact, Seto didn't precisely feel like he was sitting either. Was this the 'soul room' Yami kept ranting about? _Hello?_ he sent again, cautiously. _I'd like to talk to you._

A light flared and he threw up his hand to protect his eyes, although his real arm didn't move. Every action was mental, as if his mind and his body were two separate entities. _Augh!_ The light burned, startling after such comforting, cooling darkness.

He opened his spirit-eyes and came face-to-face with two doors. One was half-open, made of rich mahogany wood and silver, and the other was rough, heavy stone, tightly closed and sealed with the Eye of Horus. He recognized it from Yuugi's descriptions; this was the door that his yami should live behind, if he had one at all. He reached out intangible fingers to the door, meaning to push it open, and he jerked back when a crackle of energy repelled him with a vicious shock.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Seto whirled around. _Who are you?_

A nervous giggle from behind the half-open door. "I'm the one you've been waiting to meet, mou hitori no boku."

_And this?_ Seto gestured to the stone door.

"He can't come out until you hold the Rod, silly. He doesn't like being disturbed, either. Just leave him alone."

_Who is he?_

"Your yami."

_So I do have one?_

"Of course. That's not what you wanted to talk about, is it?"

_Come out. I can't see you._

"I can't leave. You have to come in."

Seto pushed on the door gently and it swung open with little resistance. He supposed there was some sort of metaphor he was supposed to be picking up on from that, but he had more important things to attend to. _It's dark_.

"I know."

_I hate the dark._

"I know."

_Can I see you?_

"I—I don't want you to." A small, infantile whimper and a shudder coursed through the air, as if tangible fear was emitting from the voice. "Not like this, mou hitori no boku."

_What do you mean? I need to know where Jou is. I have to find him._

"I'm sorry, I don't know who Jou is. And I don't know where he is." A strangled, muffled sob. "Please, just go away. I don't wanna talk."

Seto reached out into the darkness, searching for the source of the voice. _I won't hurt you. Please, I have to know where we were yesterday._

The sob wasn't strangled this time. The voice, already choked with tears, lapsed into helpless whimpering and Seto could do no more than feel around for him. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry—"

"For what?" Seto asked, startled to hear his own voice. "What are you sorry for?"

No reply, just that awful, heart-wrenching crying. "J-Just go, I c-can't tell y-you, please..." A small hand covered his own gently, tentatively. "Please, mou hitori no boku."

The little hand was shaking and Seto, not knowing what else to do, gathered the tiny body into his arms, rubbing his back softly and murmuring into his hair. "It's alright. Don't cry. I just need to know where we were. I have to find Jou."

"W-who's Jou?" The little boy buried his face in Seto shoulder, nuzzling into his warmth and Seto marveled at how bizarre it felt to be comforting himself.

Seto formed a mental picture of him. "Can you see that?"

"Angel?"

"What?"

"My angel, that's my angel—mou hitori no boku, who is he?"

"Jonouchi Katsuya. My—my boyfriend."

Shock flooded Seto's sense, shock from his other personality. "Boyfriend?" Large cobalt eyes glimmered in the faint light still streaming in through the half-open door and Seto studied the child's face, half-shadowed by darkness. He looked exactly like a ten-year-old version of Seto, which was only to be expected, but those eyes...no ten-year-old should have eyes that sad.

"Yes."

"T-then we..." he paused, tilting his head in confusion. "Are we okay now?"

Seto thought briefly of the morning after he and Jou had had sex...him screaming, hurling insults at the poor puppy and he knew just how badly he'd hurt him when he remembered the pleading, pained look he'd given him as Seto whirled around and ran out the door. "No. Not quite."

"B-because of M-master?"

Seto snapped out of his reverie and gave the boy in his arms a sharp look. "Master? Who's that?"

The boy's eyes went wide, panicked, and he shook his head furiously. "N-nothing, just forget I said anything." He pulled away from Seto's grip, sinking back into the shadows, his brilliant cobalt eyes boring into Seto's own with an unmeasurable agony marring that smooth young face.

"Who—"

"Please don't ask me! I don't want to talk about it!" The boy clutched at his hair, shaking his head furiously. "I don't want to think about it!"

"Hey, calm down," Seto said, grabbing at his arms before he hurt himself. "Stop it. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I just need to know where we were last night."

"But mou hitori no boku...that's where we were."

"What?"

"With Master." The boy was trembling so fiercely that Seto wondered if he'd picked up his cold.

"Who is Master?" Seto's hold on him tightened. "Please, he's got Jou! I have to find him!"

"You know who he is."

He did? Who on Earth would know about him and Jou, they hadn't told anyone outside of Yuugi-tachi...who had seen them together...?

Oh.

Oh, no. _Fuck_.

"Not—"

The boy nodded. "I'm sorry, mou hitori no boku."

"No, God no, tell me Yutou doesn't have him!" He was shaking the little boy by the shoulders now, panic seeping into his voice. "You're lying, you have to be! Yutou lives in Japan!"

"He moved to America after Daddy died. You remember that."

He didn't.

"He invited you to see him off. Remember?"

No.

"He kissed you and you punched him."

"I don't—"

"You do."

"_Will you miss me, little dragon?" An arm snaking around his waist, lips on his neck and he shoved Yutou away._

"_Have some decency. We're in public."_

_Fingernails digging into his waist, teeth piercing skin. "Pardon?" A cordial, terrifying tone of voice, to say the least._

"_Sorry." Seto's frown deepened. He hated it when Yutou behaved like this in public. All he needed was a reporter to show up and get a picture of the great Kaiba Seto being molested by another man and it would be all over the news within an hour._

"_Hn." Yutou shifted his arm a little so it fell into a more comfortable position around his hips. "I expect to hear from you, you know."_

"_Get off it, Yutou. Gozaborou's gone. There's nothing you can do to me anymore. I'm in control now, and I could have you arrested in ten seconds if I wanted to."_

"_The downside being that parents might not want their children endorsing a former whore and possible psychotic maniac, is that it?"_

_Although Seto inwardly flinched at the 'whore' comment, he kept his face impassive, save for the beginnings of what was to become the patented Kaiba-sneer. "That's why you're going to America, isn't it? You don't go to jail, I keep my company running the way I want it to."_

_Yutou conceded, nodding in silent agreement as they reached his gate. Seto held out his hand for Yutou to shake. "This is goodbye, then, Yutou-sama. If I so much as hear about you returning to Japan, I swear I'll have you assassinated."_

_Yutou grabbed him by the elbow and jerked him forward, lips closing over his in the typical insistent manner Seto had accustomed himself to, tongue sliding past Seto's frozen lips and halfway down his throat. As soon as Seto's body comprehended what was going on he swung at Yutou, catching the elder man square on the jaw. "You fucking—!"_

"_Shh, Kaiba-kun," Yutou murmured, pressing his body to Seto's. "This isn't over. I never throw anything away, no matter how broken it is." He gave Seto a roguish wink and strode towards the gate. _

"_I'm not your toy!" Seto screamed at his retreating back. It was a momentous point in Domino City history: Kaiba Seto lost his temper in public. "Bastard!"_

_The airport staff was talking about it for weeks._

How had he forgotten? It hadn't been that long ago, surely he should have remembered...

"It would have hurt you, mou hitori no boku."

"What?"

"Remembering. So I made it go away." Made it go away? This child, this other him could control what he remembered, control what he thought, and that terrified Seto. Just knowing that his memories could be deleted as easily as if they were files on a computer...that his life could be edited...

"Why? Why are you doing this to me?" Anger, no, this wasn't right, his control was cracking, and he couldn't have that because he was Kaiba Seto, and nothing touched Kaiba Seto.

"Doing what?" There was a quaver in that soft voice, a hint of tears. "I was only trying to help!"

"We have to go. Now. Get him back." Seto shoved the boy away and stood shakily. "Take me to Yutou."

"But he—"

"Now!"

ooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooo

"Nnng..." Cold...sore...hungry...he opened one eye and immediately shut it as blinding sunlight lanced through his vision, aiding the pounding beat in his head with tiny tongues of flame licking at his nerve endings. He hurt, he hurt everywhere and he couldn't move, why...?

Jou was awake now. Awake and pulling at his makeshift duct-tape bonds. "What the fuck?" he hissed. His wrists were taped together, behind the back of the chair he sat in, and his ankles were taped to the chair legs, spreading his knees in a rather suggestive position. What had happened?

"You're awake."

He gave a start and the chair legs scraped against the wooden floor. He narrowed his eyes at the man in the doorway. "You," he finally mumbled, tongue still numb from the chloroform.

"Yes, me. I was worried you'd sleep all day."

"You drugged me."

"I did."

"Why?"

Yutou arched an eyebrow at him. "I'd think that was obvious, Jonouchi."

Jou blinked, startled. "How d'you know my name?"

"I've been watching you for a while." Yutou pulled another chair out from under the table and spun it around so that he was straddling the back, chin rested on folded arms in a manner much too boyish for him.

"Not really somethin' I wanna hear from you." Jou winced as he tried to pull apart his duct-taped wrists and was rewarded with pain. "What the hell d'you want from me?"

"That's a very open-ended question," Yutou said casually, gracing Jonouchi with another lazy, catlike grin. "Why do you think anyone would go to the trouble of kidnapping a pretty little thing like you?"

Jou's only response was a venomous amber glare.

"I was trying to compliment you."

Jou's eyes narrowed.

Yutou threw up his hands. "I can't win with you, can I? I don't know how Kaiba-kun puts up with you," he muttered. "You're very high-strung."

"Look, I doubt you went t' all this trouble jus' to tape me up in your kitchen and make conversation wit' me, so could you hurry up with whatever death threats you have planned? My arm's fallin' asleep."

"Cheeky," Yutou commented and Jou half-expected him to punctuate this revelation with a slap, but the elder man didn't move. "I didn't bring you here to make death threats."

"What did you bring me here for?"

Yutou gave him an exaggerated wink. "That would be telling," he purred, tilting Jou's head up with a knuckle under his chin.

Jou's cell phone rang and the blonde's head snapped around, trying to discern where the sound was coming from, since the phone obviously wasn't in his pocket anymore. He wasn't sure he liked—no, he was absolutely certain that he _didn't_ like the idea of Yutou poking around in his clothes, but there wasn't much to be done about it now. He'd been asleep anyways.

"You gonna answer that?" Jou asked as Yutou reached into his jacket for the phone. Yutou examined the small device in his hand with a mild sort of amusement.

"He called my bluff, the cocky little bastard." Yutou tossed the phone at the trashcan. "Pity. I'll bet that was expensive."

"You're not throwin' my phone away!" Jou growled at him.

"Actually, you're right. He could still trace it to this apartment, couldn't he? Very well." Yutou retrieved the phone from the garbage can and strode over to the French doors leading to his balcony. Jou watched him, puzzled, and it took a moment for him to realize what he intended to do.

"No, don'—"Too late. Yutou had thrown the phone as far as he could manage and Jou heard a faint but distinct 'splash' as it sunk into the Manhattan Bay. "Damn it, that was mine!"

"You hardly look like you're in a position to argue," Yutou said calmly, locking the doors behind him as he reentered the room. "Now, Jonouchi, I think it's high time you and I had a little talk."

"As long as the talk involves my clothes stayin' on, that's fine wit' me," Jou snapped. "One question, though. Could you maybe just untape my hands? They're startin' t' fall asleep."

"Answer my question and maybe," Yutou said noncommittally.

"Shoot."

"Don't tempt me." Yutou was already growing sick of the blonde's attitude. It had been so long since he'd had to deal with anything more than his little dragon's submissive whimpers and pleading. It made him wonder if breaking Jonouchi would really be worth it. After all, he wasn't as young as he once was, and those years of Seto's training had been hell on his nerves. Maybe it would be sufficient to get him away from Seto, far away, maybe even convince Seto to stay in America with him.

Why, he asked himself absently, did he want Seto to stay with him so badly? Did he love the boy?

Certainly not. He felt nothing for him, nothing but lust and need and pride in a work of art. Nothing. It was because Seto was his. Yutou had always been territorial, and he needed Jounouchi out of the way, one way or another.

"How do you know Kaiba-kun?"

"Been goin' t' school wit' him since we were ten."

Fair enough. They'd known Seto the same amount of time. "How well do you know him?"

"Better than you ever will, asshole."

Yutou slapped him and to his surprise Jou didn't even look shocked, just gave him that same self-satisfied grin, as if he'd expected it all along. Which, Yutou realized, he probably had. "Don't talk to me like that."

"Control issues much?" Another slap and another grin, and Yutou had the distinct impression that he was being woven into Jonouchi's web, not the other way around.

"Look, punk, you're in no position to argue with me. It wouldn't take much for me to shove you down and fuck you senseless right here, so let's cut the bullshit, shall we?"

"Fine," Jou snapped. "Whatever it takes to get me out of here quickly."

"How far have you gone?"

Jou seemed taken aback by the question. "How far have we—? I don' see how that's any a' your business."

Yutou was suddenly _way_ too close for comfort, his face scant centimeters from Jou's, their noses practically touching. "It's my business because he's _mine_, kid, and you're getting in my way. He belongs to _me_, not to you."

"He doesn't belong to anyone. You've got no claim t' Seto, you're jus' a coward who can' get any on his own and has t' resort t' rapin' fourteen-year-old kids! I'm not leavin' Seto t' you, because he hates you! He's terrified of you!"

Yutou had just opened his mouth to reply, and by the way he was baring his teeth, it was clear that Jou had just stepped over the line from "righteously angry" to "pain in the ass."

And then they both jumped, because someone was knocking on the door. Perhaps knocking was too kind a word, since the door seemed to be in danger of being removed from its hinges. Yutou's glare vanished, melting into a snakelike smile. "It's about time."

The door swung open with a rather disconcerting splintering of wood and there stood Seto, shoulders hunched up around his ears, fists clenched at his sides, blue eyes hard as diamond. Jou's eyes widened; Seto was _scary_.

"Get. Away. From. Him. _Now_."

ooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooo

The silence was starting to worry Jou. Seto hadn't said a word since they'd gotten into the car. His hands were clutching the wheel so hard that his knuckles were white where bone pressed against skin and he was glaring ahead, as if he could burn a hole in the rear windshield of the car in front of them by merely staring at it. Jou was afraid he'd bite his head off if he asked something, but...

"Ano...Seto?"

"What." It had been a while since he'd heard Seto so angry. His voice was furious and his eyes barely flicked towards the blonde in response. Jou shrunk a little further towards the car door.

"I—I jus'—"

"Spit it out."

"What the hell's your problem?" Jou growled, temper flaring. "Eva since we left, you've been actin' really bitchy. What'd he _say_ t'you?"

"Nothing."

"I don'—"

"Mutt. Shut up. I really don't want to listen to it right now." Seto turned the wheel sharply and the car screeched into the parking garage of their hotel. "Stay here. I'll be right back."

Jou didn't listen. When did he ever listen? He wanted to know what Seto was doing, why they'd come back to the hotel, and more importantly what Yutou had said to get Seto so rattled. He waited a few minutes and then followed Seto into the hotel. He got more than a few disapproving looks, what with the way he tore through the hallway and dashed up the stairs, nearly knocking over several housecleaners.

When he slid the door to the hotel room open, Seto whirled around, eyes blazing cobalt. "I told you to wait in the car!"

He stared. Seto was packing Jou's bag. He was stuffing the clothes inside, seemingly not caring about how wrinkled they were getting, just as long as they were in the bag, and that wasn't really what mattered to Jou, but why did he...were they leaving? "W-what're you doing?"

"You're going back to Japan." Seto resumed his work, pausing for only a moment when he picked up the blue shirt Jou had worn on their last date before resolutely jamming it into a side pocket. "I'm sorry."

"You're...not coming?"

"Not now."

"Why am I going back alone?"

"Because it's over." He jerked at the zippers, tugging them closed with more than a little difficulty.

"It's over? We're over?"

"That's what I said, isn't it?" Seto didn't meet his eyes, just hefted his suitcase in one hand and walked past him towards the door. Jou could only stand there stupidly, mouth gaping, mind struggling to comprehend what Seto had just said.

"But...but I didn'...did I do somethin'?"

"No."

"Then why? I—I thought you _liked_ me."

"I did. I do. I just can't be with you." Seto cast him a glance. "You're going to miss your plane."

"I don'...I don' understand..."

Seto bit his tongue, hard, wincing when the coppery taste of blood flooded his mouth. His stomach clenched and it was all he could do to force the words out but he had to, he _had_ to, it was for Jonouchi's own good. "I want you gone."

Silence.

"I want you out of my life. It was fun while it lasted, but we're done." Oh, it hurt, it felt like his heart was being ripped from his chest but he had to do this, he had to. Someday Jou would understand.

He tried to ignore the way Jou's breath hitched but it stung, it stung so badly and he turned to look at Jou over one shoulder. Jou was facing away from him, curled up into himself, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. A lump of guilt formed in Seto's throat, nearly choking him and he wanted so badly to run to Jou, to pull him into his arms and tell him everything would be alright. Tears pricked at Seto's eyes and he hissed in frustration. He couldn't cry. He was Kaiba fucking Seto, he didn't _cry. _He had to leave, had to turn and walk out, but the sight of Jou collapsing to his knees on the floor, crying, kept him rooted to the spot. "Jou..."

"You...never cared." Jou gave a great shudder, his voice dampened with tears and Seto scrubbed roughly at his own eyes. "You never cared about me, did you?"

No, Seto cried inwardly, please don't turn around. He couldn't bear to see him, couldn't take the pain and betrayal. Jou turned accusing amber eyes on him and it took everything Seto had to keep still, to not run to him, not to cry out as guilt wrenched at his stomach. It was times like this that he appreciated Gozaborou's training. "No," he whispered. "I didn't."

Jou nodded numbly. "I...I see."

"I'm—"

"Sorry. I know." Jou said listlessly. "Call Richard. I don't want you driving me." He pushed himself to his feet and held out his hand to Seto. Seto reached for it, wanting no more than to touch his puppy one last time, but Jou shuddered and shook his head. "My bag."

Seto called Richard. They sat in silence, Seto gritting his teeth and digging his nails into his palms and Jou sitting by the door, curled up, head buried in his knees, crying softly. Ten minutes later Richard called back. He was in front of the hotel.

This was it. Jou was leaving, going back to Japan, and Seto only needed to hold on for a few more minutes, just until he was out the door and then he could cry, because then Jou would be safe, away from him. He didn't notice, or perhaps didn't care, that he'd gone from repressing the tears altogether to repressing them just until Jou was gone.

"Goodbye," Seto tried, praying the Jou hadn't noticed the quaver in his voice.

Jou picked up his bag wordlessly and tossed his room key on the coffee table. He reached for the knob and turned it, pausing halfway out the door. "Seto?"

"Yes?" He kept his voice neutral, as best he could. Jou couldn't hear it, couldn't hear the pain that threatened to suffocate him.

"I...I love you."

Then he was gone.

Seto cried.

* * *

A/N: Wahahaha! Cliffhanger! Sorta.


	14. Still Running Out Of Titles! Someone He...

Chapter Fourteen

Radical Inu Star:  As always, nice to hear from a new reviewer!  And this is original?  I'm so happy!  (stops you from killing Yutou just yet...we need him still)

Fiery Charizard:  Okay, either you're overemotional or I'm actually _good_ at this angst thing!  Wai!  I made you cry!  (thinks)  I probably shouldn't be celebrating that, ne?

redrose2310:  (salutes)  Yes ma'am!

repmet:  (patpats)  There there, it's okay...

Smoocher of Evil:  Come on now, I didn't make you wait long!  Glad you're enjoying it!

kuroi-sakurapetals:  Heartwrenching?  Awesome.  And I'm a little shocked that so many people think I'm original!  It rox!

Nikyo:  My evil mind did NOT make them break up.  (holds out a very innocent-looking white bunny)  These did!  Blame the plot bunnies!  Not me!

Arora:  Out of hand?  (tears up)  You no like?  I needed Seto to ditch Jou so I could torture him a little more!  I didn't mean to make you hate me!  (runs off crying)

Calico-Avengi:  (plays with the puddle of fangirl-goo)  Look!  A swan!  I'm glad you liked it, Cali-chan.  And I love you too!

mandapandabug:  You have the most impressive runon sentances of anyone I've ever seen.    I'm glad you liked it, dear!  And no, I don't think "enthrillerating" is a word.  It should be, though.

Felidae:  Ah...it seems a lot of people are rather angry at the cliffie....placating update!  Forgive me!  (bows)

saffron-starlight:  Yes, poor Kaiba for ever falling in my twisted little hands. 

Kumori Sakusha:  Hearbreaking?  Alright!  (cheers)

BobGod:  I consider it an immense compliment when someone who doesn't even like a generalized portrayal of a character (i.e angsty Kaiba) and likes my work anyways.  I put a lot of effor into making it somewhat believeable, and I think you for appreciating that.  Oh, and please don't send angry reviewrs with pointy objects at me! (hides)  They scare me!

CaptainInuyasha777:  Here's the update, don't kill me!

(A/N: Okay, before we start: The beginning of this chapter is mainly from Shizuka's perspective, and therefore Jonouchi is referred to as 'Katsuya,' because that _is_ his first name, after all. I just wanted to avoid confusion )

Itadakimasu: A Japanese blessing said before meals; "Thanks for the food"

Hai: If you've read any fics at all, you probably know what this means. If tis is your first fic, God help you. It means "yes."

Onii-chan: Older brother

Otou-sama: A very, very proper and respectful term for "father." I kinds figured that Gozaborou was one of those "Respect me in my own home" type of people, ne?

* * *

"Onii-chan?" Shizuka shifted her shopping bag onto her hip and knocked gently on the apartment door. "Katsuya, I know you're in there. Please let me in." She waited expectantly, and sighed when she received no response, not even in indication that her brother was alive. "You're being difficult, onii-chan." She set her bag down and pulled a bobby pin out of her hair, shaking her bangs out of her eyes. She was grateful that she'd taken the time to listen to Bakura's advice, otherwise she'd be standing out here all night.

"I'm coming in," she announced as the _thunk_ of the final tumbler heralded Shizuka's novice success at lock-picking. She swung the door open, picking up her bag, and stepped inside the darkened hallway. "Nii-chan? Are you home?" She slipped her shoes off and padded down the hallway, turning on the lights as she went.

He was there. Shizuka sighed as she realized he was in the same position he'd been in when she'd left yesterday, curled up on the couch, dressed only in a bathrobe, clutching at the collar buckled around his neck. His even breathing clearly stated that he was sleeping, and Shizuka decided to let him rest while she prepared his food.

It had been two weeks already, two weeks since he'd stumbled off Kaiba's private plane, pale and crying, and his condition hadn't improved any. He hadn't spoken a word beyond "It's over," and he refused to see anyone besides his little sister. Yami and Yuugi had actually spent two days camped outside Jou's apartment, and he refused to let them in. His answering machine was full of worried messages from Yuugi, Ryou, and a few "encouraging" calls from Honda, trying to convince Jou to come with him to pick up chicks.

Shizuka wondered what part of "gay" Honda was having trouble grasping.

The messages were less frequent now, the visits fewer, and Katsuya didn't seem to have noticed. He sat in the dark all day, staring at nothing, occasionally watching TV with the sound turned off. It was all Shizuka could do to make him eat enough to keep him out of the hospital, and it was only by the grace of God that her father had been released today. Apparently the chemotherapy had worked better than anticipated, and Shizuka was grateful. She didn't know if she could handle more than one invalid at a time.

"Onii-chan." She shook his shoulder gently, setting the bowl of miso soup down on the end table. His eyes opened slowly and he blinked up at her. "Hey," she said, giving him an encouraging smile. "How are you doing today?" She helped him sit up and placed the soup in his hands. He shrugged, staring at the wisps of steam curling out of the bowl. "Eat," she told him after a few minutes. "I have good news."

He obeyed mechanically, taking a small sip and looking up at her expectantly. "Dad was released today." He paused, waiting for her to continue and Shizuka, glad to see her brother interested in something, was only too happy to comply. "The doctors said the cancer's in remission. I know they didn't expect the chemo to work this well, but they said he'll be fine."

Katsuya dropped his eyes back to his soup and took another sip. Shizuka huffed in irritation. She'd just told him that his father wasn't going to die, didn't that warrant some sort of happiness? A smile, or a nod, anything! "Don't you care? You know, there are other people with problems besides you. I'm tired of playing mother for you! Seto dumped you, get over it!" She turned on her heel and stalked back into the kitchen.

The nerve! She'd been coming here every day, fixing meals for him and talking to him, just so he didn't have to be alone, and he couldn't even dignify her with a response. She had a life of her own, and she couldn't spend so much time taking care of her brother. It would be one thing if he was sick, but he was just being stubborn! Well, it was enough. He could rot here for all she cared, she was—

Arms wrapped around her from behind and a head rested on her shoulder. "I'm sorry," Katsuya whispered in a voice husky from crying. "I didn' mean to be such a pain in the ass. I'm glad that Dad's okay."

Oh, he'd done it again. He could do everything in his power to wind her up, piss her off, and then he'd just say something so sweet that her heart melted and she forgave him. "It's okay," she said, patting her brother's hand. "I didn't mean that. I was just frustrated with you."

"I know." He released her and she turned around, wincing when she saw how wretched he looked under the harsh kitchen lights. For all the sleep he'd gotten, he shouldn't have such dark circles under his eyes but there they were, making him look like one of the living dead.

"You should get yourself cleaned up, and then we'll talk. Okay?" She patted his shoulder.

He gave her a sad smile and shuffled towards the bathroom. Shizuka listened until she could hear the sound of running water before she resumed her cooking. "Oh, Katsuya," she sighed. He had such a bad habit of getting attatched to people that would hurt him.

She couldn't precisely say that she'd seen this coming. She was too blinded by sisterly affection to fully admit that Katsuya was making a mistake by getting involved with the coldhearted CEO. She'd encouraged him, and maybe that was a mistake, but it was the first time he'd stayed with anyone for more than a month. He didn't precisely have a good track record with dating, and she'd just been so happy that he'd finally found someone that she'd ignored her better judgment.

It had been refreshing to see him with Kaiba. Katsuya seemed to love touching him, nothing inappropriate, just leaning his head on Kaiba's shoulder, or discreetly holding his hand when he thought no one else was looking. He was so shy, it was adorable. Shizuka had never seen Jonouchi so content with anyone, and maybe that was why she hadn't spoken up, voiced her objections to their relationship.

It wasn't that she didn't like Kaiba. She thought he was, under the cold, cruel demeanour, a good person, someone who cared deeply for his little brother, the only family he had left. And on rare occasions he could do something decent, even if he was bitter and sarcastic most of the time. It was obvious, at least to Shizuka, that Kaiba liked her brother, judging from the way Kaiba's eyes would soften when he gazed at Katsuya, the way he smiled around Katsuya...

But Kaiba wasn't normal, Kaiba wasn't safe. He could be kind, but how could she trust her brother's fragile heart with someone who couldn't even take care of himself?

She couldn't. Maybe Katsuya was better off without him.

"What're you thinkin' about?" Katsuya had ambled back into the kitchen, wrapped in a mercifully clean bathrobe and toweling his blond hair dry. He was still wearing his collar, Shizuka noted, not missing the affectionate way he rubbed it clean with the damp corner of his bathtowel.

"I'm just worried about you, onii-chan," Shizuka replied as she spooned rice into a bowl. He helped her carry the plates to the table and they sat down to eat, both briefly muttering "Itadakimasu" before continuing their conversation. "Do you think you're going to be okay?"

Katsuya slumped in his chair, poking his fish desolately with his chopsticks. "I know you think I'm just mopin' around, but..." his voice broke and he had to look away so that Shizuka couldn't see the tears pricking at his eyes. "I really liked him. A lot. It jus' hurts that he'd do that t' me, you know?"

"I don't." Shizuka took a bite of rice. "You never told me what happened."

"He kicked me out. No explanation, nothin'. He jus' told me he didn' care about me and sent me home."

"That doesn't sound right."

"You're tellin' me."

"No, I mean that doesn't sound like Kaiba. He _did_ like you, I'm sure of it. Mokuba used to tell me so all the time."

"All the time?"

"Seto's had a crush on you since high school," Shizuka said. "You know how bad he is at expressing himself. Did something happen?"

"Yeah, but...I dunno if I should tell you..."

Shizuka arched en eyebrow at him. "Nii-chan, I'm eighteen. You're not going to shock me, don't worry."

"We...we had...eh..." Katsuya blushed crimson and suddenly became extremely interested in his sushi. "This is very good."

"Thank you. Now please continue."

"We did...things," Jou finished lamely.

"Things."

"Things that are...um..."

Shizuka knew what he was trying to say, but it was _so_ much fun to watch her brother get so flustered. "Things that are..."

"We had sex!" Jou burst out, blushing harder than before.

Shizuka repressed a smile and calmly ate her fish. "Okay," she agreed. "What about it?"

"Seto was raped when he was little. He spent two years as his father's whore, an'...well, that kinda messed him up, y'know?"

Shizuka gasped in sympathy, dropping her chopsticks. "My God," she said. "That's awful!" Kaiba, abused? Molested? No wonder he was such a jerk. It was a wonder that he wasn't a psychotic maniac, having to deal with that. "Is he okay now?"

"Well...he was, but the guy that raped him showed up at that dinner party you made me go to, an' he was scared to death. Then he suggested we go to New York, 'cause his shrink told him he needed a vacation, an' Yutou—that's the guy that raped him—followed us or something, and he kidnapped me, an'—"

"What?" Shizuka said. "He...he didn't..."

"No, Seto showed up before he could do anything t' me." Shizuka sighed in relief—Seto had saved her brother? "I thought everything was okay, but then we went back to the hotel and he packed up my stuff and kicked me out."

"That's terrible."

oooooooOOOOOOOOoooooooooooo

"Mmm..." Seto stirred, stretching, reveling in the feel of warm arms wrapped around his waist. He snuggled into the bare chest pressed to his back. "Good morning, puppy." He smiled when his bedmate leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

"Good morning to you, too, but I'm not your puppy."

Seto's eyes snapped open and he tore himself out of Yutou's embrace, wincing at the pain that shot up his lower back. "Augh! You!"

"You're not very articulate in the morning, are you?" Yutou ruffled his chestnut hair and Seto shrunk away.

"Don't touch me," Seto hissed, clutching the covers around his naked body. God, how could he have mistaken Yutou for his puppy? His puppy was so much sweeter, so much more gentle, so—

No, thinking about Jou hurt too much...he was with Yutou now, and Jou was safe. That was all that mattered.

"Little late now, sorry. Come on, you were being so affectionate when you thought I was the mutt."

Seto ignored him and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. "I'm going to take a shower."

"Fair enough. I'll join you."

"Alone, if that's okay." It was an odd agreement they'd reached. In bed, Yutou was the master, but outside of it Seto was free to have as much attitude as he wanted. After all, Seto had come to him willingly, and deserved some sort of reward, didn't he?

Seto suspected that Yutou just wanted to break him all over again.

"That's fine." Yutou lay back on the pillows, studying Seto through hooded eyes. "Hurry back, love." He watched, unabashed, as Seto crossed the room, admiring the way the beginnings of sunlight gleamed off his smooth, slender body.

Seto grumbled at the order and glanced around, wondering what Yutou had done with his pants. "Where are my clothes?"

"I like you better without them." Translation: they were hidden and Seto was going to have to walk around naked until he found them. Seto grimaced; that meant Yutou jumping him every time he leaned over. "Unless you could suggest an exchange...?"

Sex for clothes, there was something so wrong about that. "Hell no," Seto snapped, slamming the bathroom door, cursing Yutou for removing the lock.

Once he was alone he turned the hot water on and curled up on the floor of the shower as the water scalded him. It didn't hurt, not much did anymore. He was becoming numb to pain, numb to everything. His ass wasn't even that sore anymore. He was regressing back to they way he'd been as a kid; Yutou just had that effect on him.

He didn't know why he clung so desperately to Jou's memory. Maybe because it was the one thing that hurt every time he thought about it, and it was reassuring to know that he was still alive enough to feel.

And there he went, thinking about his puppy again, thinking about golden hair and laughing amber eyes and a gleaming white smile...and that toned, lithe body, the horrid accent, the cute little blush...Seto wasn't sure where the hot water stopped and his tears began.

Of course, thinking about Jou did...other things to him too. It was always Jou's face he imagined when Yutou fucked him, because he couldn't force himself to respond to the elder man's advances. Jou had been the only one who'd had any sort of effect on him at all, the only one who'd been able to even make him blush, let alone want him so badly that he ached with the mere memory. Seto used to pride himself on his well-controlled hormones, on being a virtual fortress when it came to sex, but now he realized how abnormal it was for him to not be aroused by anyone but Jou, because despite all his faults, Yutou _was_ hot. Hot and sadistic and evil, but hot nonetheless.

Yes, he definitely needed to stop this. He was uncomfortably warm, and not just from the boiling water. He clutched his knees tighter, trying to will away the memory of Jou inside him, gasping and murmuring how good he was as Seto writhed and begged to be taken harder, faster—

Seto reached for the cold tap.

"Let me help you with that." Seto jumped, head snapping around to face a very smug, very naked Yutou leaning against the shower wall.

"N-no, it's not that, it's just—"Seto stammered, embarrassed that he'd been caught like this in the shower. He wasn't a horny teenager, dammit, he should be better than this!

"Isn't it? I think it is." Yutou grabbed him by his hair, jerking him to his feet. "Thinking about that mutt of yours again?"

"No!"

"Don't lie to me." Yutou slapped him and Seto bit his lip stubbornly. "I said, let me help you."

"But I don't want—"

"I don't care what you want. By the time I'm done with you, you _will _want me." Seto gave a pitiful sob as Yutou slid inside him, no warning, no preparation, nothing.

"Please, no, I just...ahhn!"

Bathrooms echoed nicely, Yutou decided.

ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooo

Jou blinked down at a blushing Yuugi, trying desperately to comprehend what he was suggesting. "Ano...but I thought you were with Yami...?"

"I am, I am!" Yuugi said hurriedly, glad that the store was crowded and noisy. He didn't really need any of his customers overhearing _this_ conversation. "I talked to Yami and he agreed. You know, just until you find someone else." Yuugi shrugged. "He thinks you're cute."

Jou shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "I dunno, Yuug. You know I love you, man, but this is...a bit much."

Yuugi flushed and looked away. "I'm sorry. I just thought...I mean, I know I'm not that good-looking, but Yami—"

"No, no, that wasn' what I meant! Hell, Yuug, you're adorable, and Yami's about as sexy as they come, but..." Jou trailed off listlessly. "You're jus'...not Seto."

"Oh," Yuugi said sagely, nodding. He understood. "You love him, don't you?"

Jou flinched.

"I'm sorry, Jou, I didn't realize. Forgive me for suggesting that we could replace him." Yuugi bowed in apology and Jou gave a hoarse laugh.

"It's stupid," he said, shaking his head. "It's not like Seto was my first or anythin', and he's prob'ly the most fucked-up person I eva dated, but...I dunno." He scrubbed at his eyes roughly, although he knew there wouldn't be any tears. He didn't cry in public, he saved that for the privacy of his own home. He wouldn't give Seto the satisfaction of reducing him to a sniveling teenage girl. "I jus' don' undastand what I did wrong. I mean, he forgave me for...for..."

Yuugi patted his shoulder sympathetically. "You deserve better, Jou."

"I don' want better. I want Seto."

And that, Yuugi thought, studying his friend's pain-worn face, said it all.

ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOoooooooooo

"Otogi! What are you doing?"

Otogi whirled around, trying his best to look innocent while holding the shattered remains of a very old (and thus very expensive) vase. "Me? Oh, nothing. Just admiring your taste in artwork." He dumped the shards of ceramic onto what had previously been the vase's display stand. "Never really did understand that modern stuff. So messy."

Mokuba groaned; for someone so graceful, Otogi tended to attract disaster. He gravitated towards everything expensive and fragile, handling them with about as much finesse as the proverbial bull in the china shop. "...and I wondered about your all-plastic décor."

Otogi grinned cheekily at his lover. "I'm sure you can afford to lose a vase or two."

Mokuba had to smile. It was impossible to stay angry with Otogi. "Just keep away from anything else you could possibly break."

Otogi glanced around with some discomfort, noting the priceless sculptures that seemed to be in danger of engulfing the room. "Should we go to my place, then?" Mokuba laughed.

"Doesn't matter to me, a bed's a bed."

"Ooh," Otogi purred, slipping an arm around Mokuba's slim waist and nibbling on his ear. Mokuba gave an appreciative moan. "Is that what my little kitten's in the mood for?"

Precisely what his kitten was in the mood for, however, Otogi never got to find out. He could have hazarded a guess, but what happened next drove all thought of sex from the raven-haired dice master's mind, and it had been suggested that nothing short of nuclear Armageddon was capable of that.

The door opened.

Not a momentous thing, usually, although it was _so_ very symbolic. A passage from one place to another, a sign of trust when opened, a barrier when closed. However, with approximately five hundred doors in the Kaiba Manor, one wouldn't think that so much attention would be paid to something so seemingly trivial.

In this case, it wasn't a matter of the door itself, but rather a matter of the person (in this case, people) doing the opening.

"Mokuba-kun! Long time no see!"

Otogi felt Mokuba stiffen in his grasp. "Yutou!"

Otogi blinked. Yutou? The name sounded familiar...where had he heard it before?

"_You've done it before? With who?" Malik realized that his turn was over, but curiosity had the better of him._

"_Kamimura Yutou. He was one of my stepfather's business partners. He was twenty-six, I was fourteen." Kaiba's voice was flat, harsh, and his eyes glinted fiercely._

"_He didn't—"Yuugi broke off._

"_No. He seduced me, not raped me."_

"_Same thing in my book," Honda said. "You were just a kid."_

Ah, yes. That was where.

Otogi was taking the arrival of a psychotic rapist quite well, considerably better than his lover, who was clutching his arm so tightly that Otogi was sure there would be holes in the fabric when he let go. "Nii-chan, why's he here?"

Seto looked like shit, Otogi noted. He appeared to have lost even more weight, no necessarily a good thing since the CEO had been too skinny to begin with. The dark circles under his eyes were either a result of stress or lack of sleep, and Otogi was willing to bet that both factors had contributed heavily. His hair was a mess, and that somehow scared Otogi more than the pallor of the brunette's skin and the way he cold hardly stand without leaning on Yutou for support, because in all the years he'd known (and harassed) Seto, he'd never seen his hair out of place. It was Seto's one little vanity, always had been.

"Yutou's going to be staying a while," Seto said in a dead, emotionless voice, looking like he was about to collapse from fatigue.

"Where's Jou?"

Seto cringed at the mention of the blonde's name and Yutou pulled him close, as if shielding him from Mokuba's harmful questions. "It's a painful thing for him to talk about, Mokuba-kun. It turns out that the little puppy isn't as loyal as we all thought."

He was lying, Otogi thought, watching the desperation on Kaiba's face as Yutou smoothly relayed the story of how he'd caught Jou in bed with another man, an American he scarcely knew, how Jou had offered sex in exchange for Yutou's silence, and how Yutou had told Seto, of course.

Mokuba didn't buy it either, but he wisely bit his tongue while Yutou helped Seto limp up the stairs to his bedroom.

"You know that's bullshit," Otogi commented once he was gone.

"I know."

"And you know that somewhere Jounouchi's probably crying and attempting to kill himself, right?"

"I know."

"...wanna go make him feel better?"

Mokuba swatted his lover with a disapproving glare. "Keep your pants on, you horny bastard. We've got more important things to think of than your raging hormones."

"I'll make a deal," Otogi suggested, straight-faced. "We take care of my hormones right here and now, and _then_ we go save the day." When Mokuba's grey eyes narrowed, Otogi recognized the warning signs and hastily backed off. "Okay, okay, but Yutou's gonna pay for messing up our playtime."

Mokuba snorted. "Fair enough." He grabbed Otogi by the arm and followed his older brother up the stairs. "We're going to find out what's going on first."

"Ooh, a game," Otogi said in a disgustingly cheerful voice, clapping his hands together sarcastically. "I love games!"

"Look, Yutou, I'm tired. Not now." Mokuba touched a finger to Otogi's lips, silently warning him to be quiet as they padded softly down the hallway, pausing just outside Seto's partially-open door.

"I didn't give you a choice, little dragon." Mokuba tensed and Otogi lay a worried hand on his lover's shoulder.

"That's what Otousama used to call Seto. Seto always hated it," Mokuba whispered.

"I'm not your dragon, and I'm not in the mood right now! I feel like shit, I'm sure I look even worse, and I want to _sleep_, dammit!" Pounding footsteps; Seto was walking across the room. "Didn't you hear me? Get the hell out of my—"

A sharp slap echoed in the bedroom and Otogi winced in sympathy as Seto cried out. "Listen to me, whore, when I say I want you, I get you. I can't _believe_ after everything we've been through that I have to teach you the rules all over again. This is absolutely absurd."

"You'll forgive me," Seto snapped. "My other personality seems to have conveniently deleted most of your damn rules. Discuss it with him; it's not my fault."

Mokuba's brow wrinkled. Other personality? What was Seto talking about? And what about these rules? Seto barely knew Yutou, he'd only met him that one time...when he raped him...

"Everything's your fault, little dragon." A rustle of cloth and Seto whimpered; Yutou was obviously hurting him, whatever he was doing. Otogi peered into the room carefully, focusing one large emerald eye on the two inhabitants of the room. Yutou had a hold of Seto's hair and he was jerking the younger man's head back, the expression on his face a evil smile Bakura and Marik would have been proud of, had it not been directed towards one of their friends. "Everything."

"It's not," Seto hissed. "I haven't done anything, I've let you do what you wanted with me, can't I take a night off?"

"Have you been good enough to warrant a reward?"

"You and your reward system. I'm not a dog, that's not going to work. Now get the _hell_ off of me and let me sleep."

"How dare you, you arrogant little _shit_! You're nothing. You never were." Yutou jerked Seto close and the brunette unconsciously flinched away. "You're useless. Broken. A whore. _My_ whore," he purred with some sort of satisfaction. Otogi waited eagerly for Kaiba to haul off and slug him, but Seto merely whimpered and shrunk away.

Why was he acting like this? This wasn't the ruthless Kaiba he knew, it wasn't right. He shouldn't be whimpering and scared just because some asshole told him he was worthless...

...unless that's what he already thought. It would explain a lot, Otogi mused. Kaiba didn't seem to like himself a whole lot, and having Yutou hammering it home probably hurt worse than Otogi could imagine.

"Even that little puppy of yours, he left you too, didn't he?"

"Shut up," Kaiba whispered brokenly. "Don't bring him into this."

"It was a noble thing you did, Kaiba."

"I said, shut up."

"But honestly, you can't tell me it didn't sting having him walk away from you."

"He...he didn't walk away," Seto intoned, dropping his gaze to the floor.

"He ran, didn't he? Figures; after all, you put him through hell just for screwing you. I don't know what you were so upset about, I'd think you'd be used to it by now. After all, half of Kaiba Corp has walked over your

body, little dragon."

"I'm not...I didn't..." Seto slumped miserably in Yutou's grip. "I don't want to talk about him."

"Yutou, that's enough!" Before Otogi could stop him, Mokuba was storming into Seto's room, bristling like an angry cat, gray eyes narrowed in surprising ferocity. "Let my brother go!"

"I think that's for him to decide, don't you?" He took Seto's chin in his hand, giving the Mokuba a smug, Cheshire-cat grin. "What do you want, Seto-kun?"

"He obviously hates you," Mokuba snapped. "Not surprising after what you did to him, you bastard."

"What I did? Honestly, Mokuba, sex is a two-way street, as I'm sure you well know." He cast a disapproving glance at Mokuba's low-slung leather pants and tight black shirt. Otogi was suddenly glad that he'd chosen rather conservative clothes today. "I can't believe you let him out of the house like that, Seto."

"Onii-chan, what's going on? This isn't like you, tell me what—"

"Get out."

Mokuba paused, startled. "What?"

"Get out of my room."

"But...nii-sama, I was only trying to help..." Otogi's brow wrinkled; even after the piercings and the tattoos, Mokuba was still Mokuba, and it was times like this when that became obvious. He was still the same little kid that loved his older brother more than anything, and Otogi felt very much like a pedophile. How much younger than him was Mokuba? Five years? He was the same age as Seto.

"I don't need your help." Seto stared stubbornly at his own feet, not trusting himself to meet Mokuba's gaze. "I can make decisions on my own, I don't need your help."

"But you hate him!"

"If I hated him would I have brought him home? Get used to it, Mokuba. Yutou's staying, and you're keeping the _hell_ out of my way." He couldn't look at his brother, just like he couldn't look at Jonouchi. If this kept up he'd be walking around with his head down, too fucking terrified to even meet anyone's eyes. It was pathetic and it was weak, and he couldn't help it. He didn't want Mokuba hurt, and he was sure Yutou had noticed how Mokuba had...matured.

"That's just great, nii-sama. You chose _him_ over Jonouchi?" Mokuba's voice was bitter, his hands clenched at his sides. "You threw away someone that could love you, even with all your problems for _him_. For someone who fucked you so hard when you were a kid that you couldn't walk for a week. Great choice, nii-sama. Jou deserves better than the way you treated him, and you know it! Do you want everyone to hate you as much as you hate yourself? If that's it, I'd say you're succeeding pretty damn well."

"I don't care about Jonouchi. I never did." Saying it didn't hurt quite so much anymore. He was so numb, so dead, what did it matter? This was what he was made for, this was what he did best. A toy, just something to be used. No emotional attachment to worry about, nothing. "He was just a way to pass the time."

"Sure, nii-sama. That's why you're still wearing the bracelet he gave you for Christmas, hmm?"

Seto instinctively clasped his hand over the silver dragon-bracelet, and although Mokuba had turned away, Otogi didn't miss the pure horror that flashed across Seto's face. Yutou gave him a pointed look, and Otogi was fairly certain that the bracelet would be magically disappearing soon. "Come on, Otogi. We're leaving.

"H-hai." Otogi really didn't want to be here, he had no business in the middle of family problems. None at all.

"Mokuba."

Mokuba stopped, threw his brother a glare over his shoulder. "What?" he spat, sounding very much like a Kaiba.

"Do you hate me?" Seto was staring at the ground again, hand clutching desperately at his bracelet. His voice was hushed, more so that Otogi had ever heard from him. What had happened to the sarcastic, arrogant bastard Otogi was used to? He wasn't at all sure if he liked this 'new' Seto.

"I'm pretty close, Seto."

And the one person in the world that loved him walked out, slammed the door on him and left him alone with his nightmare.

Cold arms snaked around him, hot breath washed over the shell of his ear and Seto couldn't repress a shudder. "Now," Yutou whispered huskily. "Let's do something about that ugly bracelet, shall we?"

Seto didn't bother fighting.


	15. Confession

Chapter Fifteen: Confession

This was a very, very hard chapter to write...I'm sorry it took so long...

kuroi-sakurapetals: No! Feel sorry for Seto! Please! (cries) And hey, he's got serious _serious_ problems. You know what they say: You hurt the ones you love most. Or something like that.

BobGod: Yes! I'm dastardly! (poses) You hope Yutou contracts an STD _and_ leprosy? And then falls off a cliff? o.O And then is steamrolled? Yeah, that might be a little hard to make plausible. Maybe. (sighs) Am I the only one who actually _likes_ Yutou? He's just such a jerk...yeah...I'm insane...

Nikyo: Don't kill my bunnies! Without them, there's no story! WAAAAH!

setokaibawheeler: (pokes) Hah, you speak like Jou! And here's your update. Wai!

The Summer Stars: Uh...I think being hospitalized is a good excuse for not reviewing. Are you okay now? (is concerned) Oooh, and I'm glad you like Mokuba and Otogi...they're in this chapter, too. You know, I never really thought much about them being together, but I think I'm actually the only person who has them as a pairing. I've never seen them together before...

chittyco: Bery sad? Is that like "very"? (I'm just kidding. I spell badly too.)

Firey Charizard: One of the best fics you've read all year? Oh, I really am going to cry...I love you! (glomps)

kiokukaiba: You stayed up until four reading this? (cries) Waaah, I love my reviewers...oh, and the reason that I _didn't_ rate it R was because there's really only two inappropriate scenes in fifteen chapters, and they weren't very graphic at all. That, and I didn't want to lose my readers...

mandapandabug: No, I _like_ your runon sentences. They make me smile. And I like your ramblings. I'm sorry if I seemed snappish...it's hard to convey vocal inflections through writing, y'know? (huggles)

Rosalyn Angel: Thank you for actually liking Yutou! Thank youuuu! Fun and sickening and sad? I try, love. I try.

Saffron-Starlight: Does Yutou die? (does Xelloss impression) Now _that_ is a secret.

PyroKittyKat: Thanks!

Lynx-chan: Yes, ma'am!

Ototou-chan—little brother

* * *

They had tried their hardest to cheer him up, but nothing was working. Movies, food, shopping, video games...Yuugi had even brushed off his old deck and challenged Jou to a game of Duel Monsters, hoping to get some sort of reaction out of the morose blonde. Jou had only stared at him before shaking his head slowly, and collapsing on Yuugi's couch.

It was discouraging, Ryou thought, playing absentmindedly with Bakura's hair while his yami pretended not to notice. It seemed that all Jou wanted to do was sleep, and Ryou was fairly sure that was a sign of depression. He was beginning to worry about Jou. It had been a two weeks since Jou had emerged from his apartment, nearly a month since he'd been so unceremoniously "dumped" by Kaiba, and although he had returned to work, that sparkle, that light that made him Jonouchi was gone.

His eyes were dead, uncaring, and it was all Ryou could do to coax a complete sentence out of him. He reminded himself of how upset he would be if Bakura left him, and he marveled at the fact that Jou had even managed to drag himself out of bed, let alone dress himself and eat.

Although, Ryou mused, studying the way Jou's wristbones protruded from his arms and the way his shirt hung on his slender frame, he wasn't entirely sure that Jou _had_ eaten. /Kura?/ he sent cautiously.

>Nani?> Bakura asked sleepily. >What is it, hikari?>

/Do you think Jou's eaten at all? Look at how skinny he is./

>No. If you think Jou's bad, you should see Kaiba.> Ryou felt his yami's wry humour prickling in the back of his mind. >He looks like shit. Don't think he's slept since they broke up.>

/You've seen Kaiba?/

>Mm-hm. Couple of days ago. Ran into him while I was going to work. Some blonde guy was hanging all over him, and he didn't look too happy about it.>

/He's already dating again? That inconsiderate _bastard!_/ Bakura blinked at his hikari. Ryou rarely cursed, and never at animate objects, although the microwave had suffered his wrath more than a few times. /Does he even realize what he's done to Jonouchi?/

>Kaiba's Kaiba,> Bakura shrugged. Never seemed like the touchy-feely type to me.

"What do you think, Ryou?"

Ryou jumped, chocolate eyes going wide before he realized that Yuugi was talking to him. "What? I'm sorry, I was talking to 'Kura."

Yuugi smiled. "That's okay. I was just asking you if you were going to be able to come to the opening of our store in Akihabara next week. I've been trying to find a big enough piece of land there forever, and I finally managed to find some manga shop that's closed down." (A/N: Akihabara is the manga/anime/game district in Tokyo, where the Gamers store of Di Gi Charat fame is located.)

"Sounds good," Ryou said. "What time?"

"Probably at night. It'll double as a staff party. How about you, Jonouchi?"

Jou winced. "I don' know, Yuug."

Yuugi gave him a puppy-dog look. "Jou, come on, you have to be there. You're my partner!"

"It's formal?"

Yuugi nodded.

"I...don' have a date."

"You've got a week, Jou," Honda cut in. "I'm sure you'll be able to find someone in that amount of time."

"But I don' _want_ to..."

"Look, you're coming and you're bringing a date," Yami snapped. "It's your responsibility to the company to attend every press conference and formal gathering because you _own_ half the company. Just because you're upset that Seto dumped you, you can't—"

"Yami, that's enough," Yuugi warned gently, laying a hand on his lover's arm. "You know how you would be if I left you."

"Y'know, surprisingly enough, this isn' helping," Jou snapped, pushing himself up off the couch, glaring at the first couple in front of him, who happened to be Malik and Marik. Malik eeped and hid behind Marik's shoulder. "I'm glad you guys found each other an' all, but I don' think you've got _any_ right t' be tellin' me to be happy. You wouldn' be happy, because you wouldn' be wit' the one you love. Well neither am I, and I don' see anything to _be_ happy about!"

"Jou—"

"No, Yuug! You don' understand, and you have the _nerve_ t' judge me! Do you have any idea what it feels like t' be tossed aside like garbage? He tol' be I neva meant anythin' to him! Do you know how much that hurt? _Do you?_" Jou seemed to collapse in on himself and he sank back down onto the cushions. A lone tear wound down his cheek and he sniffled, all traces of anger gone, and if he'd manage to hurt himself with his own words. "I wasn' anythin' t' him. He...he couldn' love me." He buried his face in his hands. "I don' blame 'im, afta what I did..."

"Oh, Jonouchi," Yuugi whispered, wrapping his slim arms around his friend. Jou turned into Yuugi's embrace and Yuugi held him while he cried. "He didn't deserve you, Jou."

"Sorry," Jou apologized miserably. "I don' like cryin' in public."

"We're your friends," Ryou said. "It's okay."

"We didn't mean to judge you, man," Honda said softly. "I'm sure any of us would be just as torn up. We'd like to help, if you'd let us."

"Or we could just..._remove_ Kaiba," Malik suggested innocently. "Make it look like an accident. He'd have it coming."

Marik shot his hikari a wicked grin.

Jou shook his head. "Nah. Thanks, though. Y'know, even if he can' be happy wit' me, I want him t' find someone he _can_ be with. He's not all that bad once ya get t' know him."

"Problem is he might bite your head off while you're trying," Bakura commented.

Jou smiled weakly. "Yeah. He might."

oooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooo

"Good morning, Mokuba." Seto pasted on a grin and offered his brother a plate. "I made eggs for you."

Mokuba didn't glare, didn't curse at him, and most certainly didn't pay attention to him. He stalked past Seto and snatched a frozen waffle from the freezer, warming it up in the microwave.

"Come on, Mokuba," Seto said. "I apologized for yelling at you. How long are you going to ignore me?"

No reply. Mokuba took a stubborn bite of his waffle. "Otogi, hurry up. I have to get to class, and I want to see you before I leave."

Otogi stumbled down the stairs, still buttoning his shirt, looking much younger without his dark makeup and with his hair spilling over his narrow shoulders. He yawned loudly, his emerald eyes dropping to half-mast. "Mornin', Seto," he mumbled, obviously still half-asleep. "Mornin', kitten." He hugged Mokuba, reaching around him for the coffee. "Sleep well?"

Mokuba smiled and nuzzled into the hollow of his lover's throat. "I did."

"What time are your classes today?" Otogi took a sleepy sip of coffee. "I was thinking I could pick you up for lunch." Mokuba had opted to commute to school rather than living in a dorm; he was closer to home this way, and it was much easier for him to see Otogi. Sure, it meant a few extra minutes in the car, but Otogi was worth it.

"I get out at two. What're you going to do the rest of the day?"

"Work," Otogi said tonelessly. "Yaay."

"I'm sorry," Mokuba laughed. "I should probably get going." He kissed Otogi quickly, then dashed upstairs to get his bag.

"Otogi."

"Hm?" Otogi blinked at Seto.

"Is he ever going to forgive me?"

Otogi shifted his weight nervously from one foot to the other. "I dunno, Seto. He's pretty upset with you, you know."

Seto sighed. "I didn't do it just to upset him." He stirred his cereal morosely, having taken no more than a few bites.

"Then...why _did_ you do it?"

Seto's eyes hardened. "I...I can't tell you," he said at last. "I'm sorry."

"Hn." Otogi grabbed his jacket and headed for the front door. "You've been saying that a lot lately." He paused, just inside the doorframe and turned to look back at Seto. "Seems to me," he said, "if you were really sorry, you'd find a way to fix it. But hey, I could be wrong."

Fix it? Seto snorted. How could he fix this? He'd hurt Jou, pissed off Mokuba, and become Yutou's fuck toy –_again—_ and honestly, he couldn't see any way out. The worst part was, he was doing it all for Jou and Mokuba, but they'd never know.

Oh, it wasn't that he wanted recognition. That wasn't it at all, he just wished he could explain to them why he couldn't leave Yutou. Then maybe Jou could get over him and Mokuba could forgive him, and they could just leave him alone with his little corner of hell. It would be worth it, just to know that his brother didn't hate him and that Jou could find someone he could be happy with. Someone he could love...

...as much as he loved Seto.

Seto dimly realized that he was curled up in his seat, hugging his knees and crying, but he didn't care. He had no dignity left, nothing to hold on to. What did it matter if he cried? It fucking _hurt_, walking away from someone who loved him, from someone he, just maybe, had loved in return. He wouldn't have minded so much if someone had known, someone had been able to tell Jou exactly why Seto had to be far, far away from him. He knew Jou's friends were angry with him. He'd seen the glare that albino tomb-robber had tossed at him, and he honestly couldn't blame him, the way Yutou had been hanging all over him. If they thought, if Jou thought, that he'd already started dating so soon after he'd broken up with Jou—

Well, Seto knew how that would look. Kaiba Seto, doing what he does best: using people and tossing them aside when he was done with them. _But that's not me_, he thought. The reputation he'd worked so hard to create was against him now. After all, how could someone as arrogant, cold and cruel as Seto fall in love with anyone? It made perfect sense.

_Mou hitori no boku?_

Seto jerked violently, head flying up. "Who is that?"

_It's just me._

Ah. His other personality. Just what he needed. He glanced at the reflection in the copper pan hanging on the wall near his head and was startled to find the ten-year-old reflection staring back at him. "What do you want?" he hissed, hoping that Yutou was still asleep. The last thing he wanted was for Yutou to find him talking to himself.

_Why are we with Master? I thought you hated him._

"I do," Seto whispered. "But he didn't give me a choice. It was me or Jonouchi, and I didn't want him to hurt anyone else."

_I'm sorry. This is all my fault. If I hadn't gone to Master, he wouldn't have even known where we were! I just...had to see him._

"He would have found us eventually. I still don't understand why you had to see him, though."

_I can't tell you. I'm sorry._

"Stop apologizing."

_Sorr—_ Seto felt the younger him smile. _I'll try._

"Maybe it's a good thing."

_What do you mean?_

"I wasn't good for Jonouchi. I would have dragged him down. He shouldn't have to deal with my emotional problems. This way I'm out of everyone's life. I can't hurt them."

_But...you love him._

"Sometimes that isn't enough."

_What?_ Something close to panic. _How can love not be enough?_

"If I really do love him, I'll do what's best for him. Him and Mokuba. And to keep both of them safe, all I have to do is sleep with Yutou. It's not like I haven't done it before."

oooooooooooOOOOOOOoooooooo

He had a point. It made sense. It made so much sense that it rocked little Seto to the core. Love wasn't enough? He had to do what was best, even if that meant not being with the one he loved?

Maybe...maybe he shouldn't be with Master...?

_It's not good for mou hitori no boku_, he reflected. It was hurting him, hurting him so badly that he couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, and still he stayed. Not because he liked Yutou, but because he loved his koi and his little brother. He sacrificed himself, subjecting himself to Yutou's abuse, just so the people he loved were safe.

And it was all little Seto's fault.

_How can mou hitori no boku trust me? It's only because he doesn't know...doesn't know what I did._ It was selfish, forcing his other personality to suffer just so he could be near Master. It wasn't fair to him, it wasn't right.

And he was going to end it here and now.

"I'm sorry," he said, reaching into Seto's consciousness gently. "I have to do something."

_Wait, what're you...do...ing...dammit, let me...go... _Seto was drifting away, his vision darkening and he could feel that damn brat stretching in his mind, claiming control of his body while he forced Seto into sleep.

"Sorry, mou hitori no boku," little Seto said, rolling his head on his shoulders, getting used to the feel of an actual body again. "I have to fix what I broke."

He pushed himself away from the table, his innocent eyes set in an uncharacteristically grim glare, and headed for the stairs.

oooooooooOOOOOOooooooo

"Good morning." Yutou was dressing himself and he barely glanced up when Seto walked in. "Have Mokuba and Otogi already left?"

Seto seated himself on the bed. "Master. I...I need to talk."

Yes, Yutou was listening now. It was so rare that his little dragon requested anything that it immediately piqued his curiosity. "What is it, little dragon?"

"You're hurting mou hitori no boku. He loved Jonouchi. You have to let him go back."

"I don't _have_ to do anything. I own him, not the other way around."

"Please, Master. I'm afraid he's going to die if you don't let him go. He doesn't eat, he doesn't sleep. He's tired, Master. He's fading."

"And?"

"And I can't do this, it's not right! Please, I'll do anything..._anything..._what I did was wrong."

Yutou fisted a hand in his shirt and jerked him close. "I'm not letting him out of my sight just because you've had a sudden attack of conscience. Or did you forget that threatening Jonouchi was your idea?"

Seto flinched. It had been, he'd been the one who had suggested that Yutou break the two apart by appealing to his other personality's paranoia where his loved ones were concerned. It had been stupid, selfish, be he was so caught up in finally seeing his Master again that it didn't take much for him to push the _real_ Seto out of his mind.

But betraying his angel had been eating him apart. He kept remembering the first time he met him, golden and beautiful and sososo _nice_. Even though he _knew_ what a bad boy Seto had been, even though he knew how dirty and worthless he was...he'd cared. He'd comforted him, and told him he wasn't ugly, and...

Oh, he'd been so wrong.

Seto _was_ bad, he _was_ ugly, but not because of what Yutou had done to him. Because he had sacrificed not only his other personality's feelings, but his angel's as well. He'd hurt the only person who'd ever been kind to him, just because he'd fallen in love with Master. It wasn't right, it wasn't fair, but what could he do? Nothing. It was already done.

He had to leave.

"Master...I need you to go away. Please," he added as an afterthought.

"Excuse me?" Yutou's voice was deadly, his eyes sharp as flint. "I'm not going anywhere."

"But mou hitori no boku—"

"Will you shut _up!_ I don't give a shit what Seto wants! I own him, the same way I own you. He'll forget about Jonouchi soon enough. He'll be mine again, mind, body and soul."

"Do you love him?"

Yutou snarled. "What the hell kind of question is that? Of course I don't. He's a cold, arrogant son of a bitch. He's good in bed, that's it."

"Which one of us are you trying to convince?" little Seto asked quietly, dropping his gaze to his folded hands. "You wouldn't have gone this far if you didn't feel something for him."

Yutou's fists clenched spasmodically. "I—do—_not_—love," he spat, livid with rage. "I don't love him, and I don't love you. Get it through your head, boy."

Seto met his eyes for the first time since he'd entered the room and Yutou's mouth snapped shut. This wasn't his little dragon, it couldn't be! Where was the childish innocence, the blushing laughter, the reluctant love, the shamed lust? His cobalt orbs were cold, crueler than he'd ever seen the _real_ Seto's. "I think," he said at last, "that I finally have."

Yutou couldn't take it, couldn't handle those eyes, that accusing glare. It was just like the first time he'd slept with Seto (he refused to use the word _rape_) and Seto had stared at him the whole day after, silent as a mouse, face bruised and bleeding, those eyes watching, watching him, haunting his dreams...God, it drove him mad, insane with fury and he hurled himself at little Seto, knocking him off the bed and onto the floor. "You little shit!" he hissed, shaking Seto by the shoulders, slamming his head against the floor. "How dare you! How _dare_ you talk to your master like that!"

"I dare," little Seto snapped back. "All I ever did was love you! That's it! I don't even know _why_! I didn't do anything to you, nothing to deserve being hurt like that! _You_ don't even know what I did wrong, because you don't have a reason! You're crazier than I am, _Master!"_

"SHUT UP!" Yutou punched him and Seto spat blood back at him, staining his white shirt. "I'M NOT CRAZY!"

Seto was screaming and crying and there were tears and blood everywhere, because he'd snapped, he's finally snapped and to hell with it all. He loved a psychopath, what else could go wrong? His hands grasped at Yutou's shirt and he curled towards him, burying his face in Yutou's chest. He didn't want to, _shouldn't_ want to, because he'd finally realized that Yutou couldn't ever feel anything, not for him, not for anyone. He'd always known but he'd never believed as much as he did now. His narrow shoulders shook and Yutou let him cry for a few moments before roughly pushing him away. "Get the hell off of me."

"I—I'm sorry," he sniffled. "But it's not right, you know it's not. You know you shouldn't be doing this to Seto."

"Perhaps, but you never said anything about what I shouldn't be doing to _you_." Yutou leaned down and nibbled softly on his ear before taking the lobe into his mouth, swirling patterns with his tongue. Seto gritted his teeth and his grip on Yutou tightened a fraction of an inch.

"Hah...Yutou...stoppit."

"You want my love? Let me give it to you."

"Not...please, not again, no..."

"Love me or hate me all you want, little dragon. I don't care what you think about me, as long as you respect me." His hands slid under the waistband of Seto's pants. Seto shivered as Yutou's hot breath washed over the shell of his ear, closer this time.

"You're mine."

oooooooooOOOOOOOOOOooooooo

When Mokuba got home that day and kicked off his shoes in the entrance hall, the whole house was dark. Not that this was unusual; after all, at six o' clock on a Tuesday evening Seto was normally still at work. Since Yutou had started living with them, though, he'd been staying home more and more and Mokuba had sort of grown used to someone being there when he came home.

Not that his brother was the first thing he wanted to see when he got home. He was sick of Seto trying to apologize every time he walked into a room. He didn't want an apology, he wanted Seto to fix it. Words meant nothing to him. Mokuba had spent enough of his life trying to help Seto, to repair something that, he was beginning to think, had never been broken in the first place.

Had Yutou really raped his brother? He must have done _something_, Mokuba told himself, because Seto wouldn't be so screwed up if nothing had happened. _But_, a traitorous little voice in the back of his head whispered, _why would he have gotten back together with Yutou?_ No rape victim would willingly let the rapist into their house, into their _bed._ Gozaborou admittedly hadn't been the best father, but he'd never hit Seto, never physically abused him. Maybe Seto had...made it up?

Maybe he just wanted the attention?

No. His brother wouldn't do that.

Right?

He shook his head violently. Maybe Seto thought it was real. It would certainly fit with Seto's problems...schizophrenia was definitely a possibility. Maybe it was all in his brother's mind.

He sighed and dragged his heavy books upstairs. He kicked open the door to his bedroom and dumped the books on his desk; he didn't have enough homework to warrant opening any of them. He was exhausted, though, and he badly needed a nap. He didn't want to think that his brother would make something like that up, certainly not to the point where he actually believed it, and the mere sight of Yutou brought on panic attacks, but it just made too much sense for him to ignore.

He stripped off his shirt, not bothering to hang it up. He was tired, too tired to clean. He'd do it later. He pulled the sheets back and barely managed to muffle his yelp when he realized that someone, more specifically Seto, was already there.

"Nii-sama?" Mokuba asked quietly. No response: Seto was asleep. He was curled up on his side, clutching what looked like the sheet from his own bedroom around him. It was hard to tell against the dark blue, but Mokuba was fairly sure that the sheet was dirty. Why would Seto be in his bed, wearing a dirty sheet?

Mokuba loosened his brother's hold on the sheet and gently unwrapped his torso.

All colour drained from his face and he clasped a hand over his mouth to keep from throwing up. Seto was wounded, and badly; the stains on the sheet had been blood. Lots and lots of blood.

He was so covered in purple-black bruises and the green shadows of already-fading wounds that it was nearly impossible to find a square inch of unmarred skin. His wrists were raw and bleeding, little rope fibers still embedded in his skin. And his chest—oh _God_, that was sick—had been carved, inscribed with the kanji for Yutou's name, and right below his navel was a smaller carving, the character for 'whore'. The blood was sticky, half-dried, and Mokuba placed a hesitant hand to his chest, heart in his throat, worried that his brother wasn't asleep but dead, because no one could lose that much blood and live, could they?

He exhaled in a rush when he felt the faintest flutter of a pulse and Seto whimpered in response. "Nii-sama?" There was no way Seto could be making any of this up, because he didn't even _use_ kanji, and that wasn't his handwriting and oh _God_ what had Yutou done to his brother? "Nii-sama, wake up." He shook his brother gently by the shoulder and Seto stirred.

"Nn?" he asked sleepily, blinking up at Mokuba. "What's wrong? Did you have a nightmare?" The blood loss was obviously affecting him; he seemed pretty out of it. (A/N: Just to clarify, this is normal Seto.)

"Nii-sama, what...your chest..."

Seto glanced down and his head snapped up quickly, his face panicked, scared...and ashamed? "It...it...nothing, Mokuba, I can't—"

"Yutou did this to you?"

"He didn't—"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I wanted to," Seto pleaded. "I just—"

"I could have helped."

"I don't want help!" Seto snapped weakly, eyes sliding in and out of focus; he was in the verge of losing consciousness. "I just wanted you to understand...I know you're angry at me...I'm sorry, ototou-chan..." Seto buried his face in the pillow, ashamed, and Mokuba felt tears prickle at his eyes. Seto hadn't called him that since they had been adopted.

"It's not your fault, Seto," Mokuba said softly. "Please, just tell me what happened. Is Yutou still in the house?" Seto shook his head.

"He said he was going out."

"What's that mean?"

"He's going to pick up someone at a nightclub or something and bring him back for 'playtime'," Seto spat bitterly.

"With you?" Mokuba asked, horrified. "He's going to invite some random stranger to sleep with you?"

Seto shrugged halfheartedly. "Whatever. It's happened before?"

"Whatever?" Mokuba nearly shrieked in outrage. "It has? He makes you sleep with other people? Why?"

"I don't know."

"Nii-sama—start from the beginning. I want to hear it all. Everything."

"You don't," Seto told him. "You don't want to know."

"I don't," Mokuba agreed. "But I have to. I have to understand, Seto. I can't just let this slide. Look what he did to you!"

Seto smirked mirthlessly. "It's probably for the best."

Mokuba filed that comment away to ask about later and pressed his brother. "Please, Seto. I can't help if you don't talk. Do it for me, nii-sama. How long has this been going on? You told me he only raped you once."

"I lied. He—he's been doing this since I was fourteen. Gozaborou hired him to 'train' me, and he took it pretty literally." Seto reached for Mokuba's bedside table and Mokuba turned to see three thin, black-leather books with broken silver locks that definitely hadn't been there when he'd gone to school this morning. "I got these out of the library...I have to tell you. You need to know why you have to stay away from him, Mokuba."

Mokuba flipped the first book open and was met with a picture of his brother at fourteen, giving the camera a shy smile while peeking through chestnut bangs. He was dressed in his school uniform, the top half unbuttoned, and he was sitting on the piano bench, hands fisted self-consciously in his lap. "I've never seen this before—I thought you didn't like having pictures taken."

"I don't," Seto said wryly. "This is why."

Watching Mokuba's face twist in horror became painful after a few minutes, and Seto close his eyes, waiting for the inevitable. He hadn't wanted to show these to Mokuba, but what else could he do? After Yutou's latest 'lesson,' Seto could scarcely move, let alone walk, take care of himself and pretend that everything was alright. It had taken everything he had to drag himself to the library and then back upstairs; he'd only meant to leave the books in Mokuba's room, but he was so weak by that point that he'd crawled into his brother's bed and fallen asleep. He needed medical attention, and Yutou sure as hell wasn't going to get him any.

Maybe death would have been easier. No more pain, no more fear, no more nothing...he wouldn't have to worry about hurting Mokuba and Jonouchi anymore, he wouldn't—

_No,_ Seto thought. _I won't die. Not like this. I won't let him control this, too._

"Nii...sama..."

Seto opened his eyes.

Mokuba was crying and it startled Seto. His brother hadn't cried in years, not since...well, not since Duelist Kingdom, actually. He'd changed after that, after he saw how terrified and desperate his brother was to get him back. He sensed that something wasn't right with Seto, although he knew nothing about the incident with Yutou at that point. After Yuugi had told him that Seto literally and figuratively put his life on the line to have even the slightest chance of rescuing him, Mokuba stopped crying altogether. He knew that he couldn't keep depending on Seto, because Seto wasn't nearly as unshakeable as he seemed, he was broken somewhere, deep inside, and Mokuba had to be stronger than him, had to protect him from himself.

But now, with Mokuba curled up on his bed, hand clasped over his mouth to stop his whimpers, Seto felt like he was sixteen again, soothing his little brother when he woke up screaming from a nightmare. "Shh...it's okay," he whispered, wrapping his arms around his little brother, who sobbed into his bloody chest.

"My God, Seto," he choked out. "Why didn't you...you never told me what he did to you...oh God, nii-sama, I'm so sorry you had to go through that...I'm so sorry."

"Stop it," Seto snapped. "It wasn't your fault."

"But...I mean, you only did it because otherwise they would have gone after me, and—"

"And nothing," Seto growled. "It wasn't your responsibility. I don't want to hear another word about it being your fault."

Mokuba sniffled and nodded. "Sorry."

"It's okay. I didn't want to show you these, Mokuba. I knew it would hit you hard, but I want you to realize how dangerous he is. I don't want you anywhere near Yutou, do you understand me? He's insane, and there's no guarantee that he'll keep his word about staying away from you."

"Is this why you left Jonouchi?"

Seto flinched and looked away. "I didn't have a choice. I can't let anyone else go through this. It would kill Jou, you know that."

"Yes, but—"

"There's nothing else I can do," Seto said in a tired, defeated sort of voice.

Mokuba wiped his eyes, smearing Seto's blood across his face. "Nii-sama...doesn't it hurt?"

Seto couldn't look at him. "Yes," he mumbled. "Yes, it does."

"Can't you turn him in? I mean, what he did to you is illegal—"

"I can't prove anything. He wasn't in any of the pictures. He's too intelligent to be caught so easily."

"But what he did to you—!" Mokuba touched the bloody carvings gently. "There's no way this is legal."

"I can't turn him in for domestic violence. Japan still won't recognize homosexual couples. _We're_ not technically legal."

"But for battery, rape...?"

Seto shook his head. "It won't work, Mokuba. He's too powerful, too influential. If word leaked to the press, it would be over. Everything I've worked for would be gone, just like that." Seto drew a shuddering breath. "I can't do anything. I'm sorry."

"For what?" Mokuba asked gently. "You didn't do anything wrong."

Seto bit his lip and Mokuba was startled to see tears threatening to spill down Seto's bloodstained cheeks. "Nii-sama...you can cry if you want to."

That was it. The proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. Mokuba had never _ever_ seen his brother break down and cry like this, had never seen so much emotion on Seto's normally impassive face before. The dam shattered and Seto sobbed desperately, clinging to his little brother, begging Mokuba not to leave him, not to tell anyone...he'd be good, he'd be a better brother, he just didn't want to be alone and he was so sorry for everything he'd ever put Mokuba through...

"Shh...I'm not going anywhere, nii-sama...it's okay, we'll find a way out of this, don't worry..."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." Seto whimpered, holding onto Mokuba so tight that it hurt. "I know I'm not nice, I know how badly I hurt you when I ignored you, but I didn't want Gozaborou to think that you were my weakness...he would have hurt you and I didn't want that, I'm so sorry. God, Mokuba, you were so innocent and happy, I couldn't let him take that away."

Mokuba didn't know how long they sat there, but Seto told him (between gasps and sobs) everything that had been going on since they'd been adopted, everything Mokuba had been too naive and young to recognize. Emotional abuse since he was ten, courtesy of Gozaborou, physical abuse since he was twelve, thanks to Yutou, and of course the sexual abuse starting when he was fourteen. Two-year-increments seemed to be the typical trend; attacking childhood, adolescence and then the teenage years into adulthood. The first time Yutou raped him was on Seto's fourteenth birthday, and Mokuba couldn't help but gasp sympathetically when he heard that. Seto had hated his birthday as long as he could remember, but he'd never given any reason beyond "it's a stupid thing to celebrate" until now. Now it made sense, all of his brother's quirks were perfectly natural.

Seto wasn't a hypochondriac (Mokuba felt guilty for even thinking that), he actually hated being noticed. He spent six years trying to sneak around his own house, since the moment Gozaborou or Yutou saw him he would either be hit, yelled at, or molested. He distanced himself from Mokuba because he knew if Gozaborou and Yutou realized how much he loved Mokuba that they'd use him to control Seto.

"Mokuba?"

"What is it, nii-sama?"

"I...I don't feel very good..."

Mokuba barely managed to catch him as he pitched forward, nearly toppling off the bed. He had fainted, Mokuba hoped, because he couldn't feel him breathing—no, he _wasn't_ breathing, he didn't have a pulse...oh, God, no, what had happened? He was fine a minute ago, what could have gone wrong?

"Nii-sama!"

(A/N: Why do I do this to you? I like to watch you suffer. )


	16. Healing

Chapter Sixteen

Before we start, I have something to say, and I'd appreciate it if you'd all read it and think about it.

This chapter almost didn't get written. I almost gave up on this fic, because my inspiration was waning, and because I had a rather unpleasant run-in with a friend of mine about my writing. Not precisely about this story, (although I'm sure I'll get another comment about it because he's not a fan of Seto/Jou) but about my Kenshin/Sano story. To quote him precisely, "I have some constructive criticism."

I, of course, always happy for suggestions on how to improve my writing, replied with, "Yeah?"

And he said, in these words exactly. "It sucked ass. Don't do it again."

Dear, if you're reading this, you know who you are. I am not angry with you, I've moved past that. I'm hurt, certainly, because that was in no way constructive. I don't know if you did it because you thought it would be funny, but I wasn't laughing. I don't have thick skin concerning my art, and I'm trying to fix that, but such a remark from someone whose opinion I respected stings. I fault myself for having such low self-esteem that something like that would actually ruin what had, up until then, been a wonderful day.

I honestly didn't know what to say to him. I snapped back some sarcastic reply, but my mind had gone numb. Maybe I'm just being dramatic…but it hurt, you know? That someone didn't even have enough respect for me to think enough to come up with a suggestion rather than an insult. I'm not angry. Just kind of…sad. Hurt.

But Wednesday morning I read my reviews, and…you all are truly wonderful. So many encouraging comments, and especially RosalynAngel's half-page analysis of why Yutou is a good character (a complete bastard, but a good character) and The Summer Stars reviewing me while she's recovering from her convalescence in the _hospital _(!!), and Calico-Avengi's support, and setokaibawheeler's endless (and incredibly entertaining) sentences, and everyone else's comments and encouragements, and I realized how bloody _stupid_ I was being to let one comment have so much power over me. He probably didn't think about it after it was out of his mouth, so why should I? Why give someone that much power over me?

I guess, in my own roundabout way, I'm trying to simply say thank you. Without you, absolutely none of this would be possible. I don't think reviewers get nearly as much credit as they should, because even a ten-word sentence just letting someone know you enjoyed their work can make all the difference. So thank you to everyone who's ever taken the time to read my pitiful contribution to this fandom, and to all my reviewers…I love you. I really do. You motivate me more than anything else in the world, and everything written here is because of you. I don't know if you can understand just how much it means to me to know that somewhere out there, my story is touching people so much that it brings them to tears.

The good news? _Memories and Battle Scars_ will NOT be discontinued. I have a renewed faith in all of you and in myself. I have a reason to write, and I'm inspired for the first time in quite a while. Or maybe I'm just happy that I lost six pounds. That might be it too. (dances) Hundred and eleven pounds, baby!

Er…yeah, that's enough now. Enjoy, minna-san! Sorry, no review responses this time, 'cause DELETED THEM ALL. Bastard computer.

* * *

"What? Oh, my God. No. No, we haven't seen him in nearly a month. Is he going to be alright? Yes, of course. We'll be over right away." Yuugi hung up the phone slowly, as if in a daze, and turned towards his friends, violet eyes blank.

"Hikari? What's the matter?" Yami half-stood, as if to go to his lover, who had gone pale all of a sudden, but Yuugi ran to him instead, burying his face in the pharaoh's neck.

"It's Seto," he managed to gasp out. "He's in the hospital, Yami. They…they don't think he's going to make it."

"What?" Honda asked incredulously. "What happened to him?"

"I don't know," Yuugi said miserably. "They wouldn't tell me. Mokuba ordered them to call me, and they want us to come downtown as soon as we can. That's all they said."

"What're we waiting for?" Malik asked, jumping up off the couch. "C'mon, I'll drive."

They were halfway out the door when they noticed that Jonouchi wasn't following them. He was frozen in place, white as a sheet, eyes wide and staring at nothing. Honda snorted in irritation ("We _so_ don't have time for this,") and grabbed Jonouchi by the arm, dragging him towards the door.

"You idiot, this is no time for you to be spacing out!" Honda growled as he pulled Jonouchi down the hallway. "Show a little compassion, your boyfriend's in the hospital."

"He's not my boyfriend." Jonouchi whispered. He dug his heels into the carpet, jerking his wrist out of Honda's grasp. "I'm not goin'."

They all stared at him. "Jou," Ryou said slowly, "Seto may not live. I think you should—"

"I said I'm not goin'," Jou snapped. "You go without me. I'm stayin' here."

Honda hissed and grabbed Jonouchi by the shoulders, shaking him for emphasis. "Okay, I'll say this once, so you better listen. He dumped you, get over it. You can't hide from him forever, and you need to think about something a little more productive than wallowing in self-pity! He's _dying_, Jonouchi Katsuya, and you can say whatever the hell you want to, he loves you. Whatever reason he had for breaking up with you in the first place it shouldn't matter, because he needs you and you have a responsibility to be there. You either come willingly or I'll knock you senseless and throw you in the trunk, but you're _going_ to that hospital because Seto needs your help!"

"Calm down, Honda," Marik said, grinning at the brunette, who was panting like an angered rhino. "You're gonna give him whiplash."

Honda shoved Jonouchi away from him. "Good. Maybe that'll knock some sense into that empty head of his."

Jou lurched forward and swung a wild punch, catching an unsuspecting Honda on the side of the head. "What the hell do you know?" he yelled, clenching his fists in rage while tears streamed down his face. "I said I'm not goin', and I'm—not—fuckin'—goin'!"

Honda touched the red mark near his eye where Jou's punch had landed. "You—you hit me," he said dazedly. "You really hit me."

Jou had never in his life raised a hand against any of his friends, certainly not Honda. It was understandable that Honda was shocked by this sudden display of aggression; he just stood there, hand clasped over his face, staring at his best friend in complete and utter shock while Jou clenched and unclenched his fists, baring his teeth in a silent snarl.

"Damn straight, and I'll do it again! Don't tell me what to do, Honda!" Jou shook his head and staggered back, all the anger fading from his voice. "Don't tell me what to do…"

Honda stepped forwards and Jou shied away, obviously expecting the brunette to retaliate. Instead, Honda gathered Jou roughly into his arms, in an awkward sort of hug. "Look, man, I know you're going through hell right now, but Seto needs you."

Jou nodded, his arms sliding around his friend's shoulders, leaning into the embrace and closing his eyes. "I know he does. I'm sorry I hit you," he mumbled. "I don' know what's been wrong wit' me lately."

Honda pinched his waist teasingly, flashing the blonde a roguish grin. Neither of them could stay serious for long, it wasn't their nature. "You're not eating enough," he joked. "It's making you all bitchy."

"I'm no bitch," Jou threw back, punching Honda lightly on the shoulder.

Bakura rolled his eyes. "Look, touching as this male-bonding moment is, could we _please_ get going?"

"Sure," Jou said. "Sure."

oooooooooOOOOOOOOOOoooooooo

"Jonouchi Katsuya?" An elderly, friendly-looking nurse glanced up from her clipboard and Jou stood quickly.

"Yeah, that's me."

"Please, come this way."

"Wait," Yami said. "We're friends of Kaiba too. We'd like to know what's going on."

"I'm sorry," the nurse said politely. "To protect privacy we're only allowed to discuss our patients' conditions with people who have been authorized by the family itself. In this case, Mokuba-san requested that Jonouchi-san be the only one allowed inside. After Kaiba-san wakes up, you'll be allowed in to see him, of course."

Jou shot his friends an apologetic glance. "Look, if you want me t' wait—"

Yuugi waved him away with an understanding smile. "Nah, Jou, it's fine. You deserve to be in there more than any of us do."

Jou flashed Yuugi a grin before disappearing down the hallway after the nurse. "Thanks, Yuug."

"Are you a relation of Kaiba-san?" the nurse asked him as they walked down a brightly-lit hallway, her heels clicking on the floor loudly.

"Nah, I'm his…friend. A very close friend. If you don' mind my askin'…what happened t' him?" He rushed ahead before the nurse could ask him just _how_ close a friend, because he knew she'd be suspicious of a guy showing up at a hospital with an entire group of other men, most of them dressed like male escorts.

The nurse looked away, her gray eyes sad in her kind face. "I've never seen someone ripped up this badly and still alive. He's remarkably resilient."

"Yeah, he is." Jou smiled.

"His brother called us when he collapsed…apparently he wasn't breathing and Mokuba-san couldn't find a pulse. Fortunately, Mokuba-san isn't a medical professional; his brother _had_ stopped breathing, but he did have a pulse. Mokuba-san was just too panicked to locate it properly. Kaiba-san's lost a lot of blood, and he appears to be severely malnourished. That's probably why he passed out." She paused in front of a door, hand on the knob. "Are you squeamish?" Jou shook his head, the pit in the bottom of his stomach growing. "Good."

That wasn't exactly comforting.

"Jonouchi!" Mokuba rushed to him gratefully and the blonde hugged the distraught younger man. "I'm so glad to see you!"

"Mokuba…what happened?"

Mokuba glanced sadly at his brother's sleeping form, wrapped in white blankets, pale and waiflike on the cold hospital bed. "Yutou did."

At the mention of Yutou's name, Jou's friendly, amicable face hardened into a snarl. "Yutou hurt him? How badly is he injured?" Seto's face didn't look all that bad; he had a black eye and a small cut across one cheek. Jou had a suspicion, however, that the blankets hid far, far more than he ever wanted to see.

In answer, Mokuba tugged down Seto's blanket. He was wearing pajama pants, and Jou was glad for that because he couldn't imagine how torn up Seto must have been 'down there' after such a violent assault. God, he didn't want to think about it, didn't want to envision Yutou doing…_that_ to Seto.

He was going to _kill_ Yutou. Throw him off a cliff, beat him senseless and then run him over with a fucking _steamroller_, because how could he do this to Seto? How could anyone want to hurt him so badly?

He was bruised everywhere, so much that the doctors obviously had decided that, for the sake of future movement, they couldn't bandage _everything_. Two wide bandages wound around his torso, one over his chest, the other over his lower stomach and around his hips. Jou's gaze was immediately drawn to the wrappings around his forearms and he pointed to them. "Tell me he didn'," he whispered.

"No," Mokuba said, shaking his head. "Seto wouldn't do that, no matter how bad it got. It looks like Yutou tied him up. His wrists are raw."

"Oh." Jou didn't know what else to say. "Um…"

"Look, I know you don't want to be here." Mokuba wound a lock of jet-black hair around one finger and Jou was immediately reminded of Otogi. Poor Mokuba, he looked so exhausted.

"Eh?"

"After what nii-sama said to you, I don't blame you. It's not my place to talk about this, but I think you should know…he cares about you. A lot." Mokuba sighed and massaged his temples, as if he had a headache. "Anyways, that's not why I told the nurse to bring you back here. Nii-sama needs a blood transfusion, or he's going to die."

"The hospital can't give him one?"

Mokuba pulled a face. "They could, but you never know what those donor have. I don't want Seto ending up with an STD or something."

"I don' think that happens anymore," Jou said. "Not much, anyways."

"Ah, but it does happen. And I'd rather not take that risk." Mokuba fiddled with his watch nervously, avoiding looking directly at Jou. "I did some research, and your blood type is compatible with his. Not to mention, your last test turned up clean, no STDs. Would you…?"

Jou blinked. "How the hell did you get into my medical records?"

"When you're a Kaiba, laws don't really apply all that much."

"Must be nice," Jou muttered. "Look, Mokuba, I'd love t' help, but I dunno…how's Seto gonna feel about this? I mean…it's over, _we're_ over, I don't think he needs a reminder—"

"Are you going to give up on him so easily?" Mokuba asked quietly. "Shame on you, Jonouchi, I thought you loved him."

"I did, I mean…I do. But if he doesn't want me…" He spread his hands hopelessly. "What can I do? I'd just be a burden to him."

"Jonouchi…look, I probably shouldn't be talking about this with you, but…Seto went back to Yutou because of you."

Jou winced and looked away. "Yeah, I knew that. Thanks for bringin' it up, though."

"No, he went back because Yutou threatened to come after you. And me," he added as an afterthought. "We're the only people Seto would ever sacrifice anything for, and Yutou knows that."

"For…for us? For me?" Jou clutched the hem of his shirt, fiddling with the fabric, brow furrowed. "He went through all of this…to protect me?"

Mokuba nodded.

"It's my fault?"

Mokuba's eyes bored into Jou's golden ones, hard as flint. "Don't you dare, Jonouchi Katsuya. Don't you _dare_ cheapen my brother's sacrifice. It's not your fault, it's not my fault, the only person we can blame is Yutou. Seto did this willingly. He did it for you. Don't make it less than it is, don't make it about you."

Jou's shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

Mokuba sighed and hugged him awkwardly. "It's okay, Jou. We just…we need to be the strong ones now. Seto can't protect us any more."

Jou leaned his head on Mokuba's shoulder, sniffling. A tear dripped off the end of his nose and he wasn't sure exactly why he was crying, maybe it was because he hated seeing Seto hurt like this, or maybe because he was so relieved to hear that Seto hadn't left him because of one drunken night together that Jonouchi still regretted. Maybe, just maybe, Seto could still love him. Maybe he still had a chance.

"I'm going to kill Yutou, you know that."

Mokuba tightened his grip on his friend. "I'll help."

oooooooooOOOOOOOOOooooooo

He could hear voices.

That was probably a bad sign, hm? He was unconscious, he shouldn't be able to hear anything.

But he could, it sounded like someone singing, and Seto was sure that he was losing his mind. He was unconscious, maybe even dead, and he couldn't move but he could hear a soft, voice singing quietly, soothingly.

"_I died in my dreams, what's that supposed to mean…"_

Oh, and such happy voices, too. His whole body ached, throbbed, and he wondered dimly why he hurt so badly.

"_Got lost in the fire…"_

Was that English? Seto brain struggled to translate, but it seemed to be working more sluggishly than usual. His head was pounding…oh. Right. Yutou.

His little, scared alternate personality had actually stood up to him. Seto smiled inwardly. Good for him. Someone needed to. It was almost worth the beating…

"_I died in my dreams reaching out for your hand…"_

It really was a pretty voice. Rough, a sort of natural, untrained beauty that Seto had never heard before. It was a haunting, wistful tune, and Seto, who normally didn't have the time or patience for music, actually liked it. He just hoped he wasn't falling in love with a voice on the radio, because then he'd have to go buy the stupid CD, and he'd feel like such an idiot, because it seemed like it was singing to him. The words were simplistic and elegant and they struck a chord somewhere inside him, something music didn't normally do to him.

"_My fatal desire…"_

He opened his eyes with great difficulty, wincing when the harsh, florescent lights bored into his skull. He wanted to see, he wanted to know if someone was here.

"Seto? Oh, God, Seto, you're okay!" A hand clenched around his own and Seto had to bite back a scream—that _hurt!_

"That might be a bit of an overstatement."

"But you're alive, you're going to be alright, I was so worried…do you want to sit up?"

"Yeah, that'd be—wait, puppy?" He blinked up at the person holding him, supporting him so he could actually sit upright. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Jou held out his arm, revealing a small pad of cotton taped over the vein in the crook of his elbow. "Savin' your life. You should be glad t' see me."

"You shouldn't be here," Seto snapped, jerking weakly out of Jou's helpful grasp.

"Yeah, well, technically neitha should you," Jou said casually. "Without my blood, you woulda died. I think, afta that, you at least owe me some kinda explanation or somethin'."

"I could have gotten the blood from somewhere else."

"Yeah, I guess, except that Mokuba's paranoid about givin' you someone else's blood. Thinks you'll get an STD."

"Look, Jonouchi, thank you for helping me. I appreciate it. But you really, _really_ shouldn't be here, you have to leave. Now."

"This about Yutou?" Seto's breath hitched and his eyes widened. Jou grinned. "Thought so. We got the hospital staff watchin' out for him, and there are more than a few unhappy bodyguards outside. You're safe here."

"But…you…did Mokuba…?"

"He set it up, not me. Now," he said, leaning forward and propping his chin on his palm. "Start talkin'."

"No," Seto snapped. "No, I'm not letting you push me around! Not about this! If he…if he finds out you're here, he'll—"

"It's not like he could do anythin' else t' you," Jou said. "So calm down, you're gonna make yourself worse."

"To you, you idiot!" Seto exploded. "Don't treat me like a child, Jonouchi! I'm with him because I don't want him attacking _you!_ I know very well what he'd do to me, and even if I am used to it, I'd rather avoid it if possible! So get the _hell_ out of my room, because I will _not_ have your blood on my hands!"

"So what, I'd just be a weight on your conscience?" Jou asked rudely.

"You moron!" Seto yelled. "This is not the time for your self-pity, it's time for you to get your ass away from me as fast as you can! I'm doing the best I can, but when you insist on forcing yourself into my life, it's fucking hard for me to keep him away from you!"

Jou grabbed him by the shoulder and pinned him back onto the mattress. "Calm down."

And then he kissed him.

Seto moaned, he couldn't help it. It had been too long since he'd tasted his puppy, and Jou's spiced-honey kisses were as intoxicating as he remembered. He wanted, no he _needed_, and it wasn't fair that someone could do this to him, make him feel like this, because it would be so much easier if he didn't care, if the way Jou's body pressed against his didn't make him ache to have Jou inside him again…He wrapped one arm around Jou's neck and the blonde thrust his tongue into Seto's mouth, making the cutest little noises in the back of his throat as they fought for dominance.

Jou won.

Before Seto could _quite_ grasp what was happening, Jou was on top of him, knee worming between his legs, hands softly running the length of Seto's ribcage, teasing and stroking and sososo _good_.

"Puppy," Seto gasped as Jou nipped his way down the brunette's slim neck. "Puppy, please, we can't—_ohhh_," he groaned as Jou's hips ground against his, slow and sensual and torturous. "Puppy," he tried again, fisting his hands in Jou's hair as the blonde licked gently at the one dark nipple not covered by a bandage, biting the sensitive nub just enough that it hardened under his teeth. "Puppy…" Jou wasn't listening, he was too far gone, nuzzling at Seto's gauze-wrapped stomach. "Puppy! Stop! You're hurting me!"

And he was, the friction between them had caused the pleasant warmth in Seto's groin to become a throbbing, maddening pain from Yutou's rough treatment that morning. Jou pulled back immediately, cheeks red, hair tousled, lips pink from the pressure of Seto's mouth.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly. "I got a little carried away. I was just tryin' t' make a point."

"And that would be?" Seto asked breathlessly, panting. Jou wasn't going to make this easy for him, was he?

"That you still care."

"And what if I—" Whatever Seto had been about to say was cut off as the door swung open and a young, pretty woman in a lab coat and glasses entered.

"Kaiba-san, I hear we've had some problems at home," she said kindly, eyes trained on her clipboard. "You mind if—oh. Oh, my."

Jou and Seto blushed scarlet. They _were_ in a rather compromising position: Seto was lying back on his bed, legs spread and Jou was between them, straddling Seto's hips. Jou's hands were on Seto's shoulders, pinning him to the bed, and Seto still had his fingers buried in Jou's golden locks.

They both tried to explain at once, the result being that nothing made sense.

"Oh, no, we were—"

"He and I were just—"

"It's not what you think, I swear, we—"

"Jonouchi!" Mokuba scolded, edging past the doctor. "Look, I know you two don't get along very well, but trying to strangle him in a hospital bed? That's cold."

The doctor glanced from the younger Kaiba to the two on the bed, puzzled. "You were fighting?"

Jou let out a sigh of relief; Mokuba had just saved both their asses. "Yeah, sorry 'bout that. We're friends an' all, but you know what they say…it takes good friends to have a good argument…or somethin'..."

"Oh, it's not my place to tell you not to fight, but as his doctor, I don't recommend anything of the sort until Kaiba-san's quite healed. Speaking of which, I need to change your bandages. They must be getting pretty nasty by now." She smiled gently. "Jonouchi-san, do you mind…?"

"Hunh? Oh, sure." Jou slid off the bed, cheeks still faintly pink. Seto, however, seemed to have recovered nicely. He fixed the doctor with a typical dispassionate stare.

"If you must."

"Trust me," she said. "I must." It was clear that she'd dealt with stubborn patients before; she handled Seto quite well.

He sat up and let her cut the bandages away before falling heavily back on his pillow, exhausted by the exertion of sitting upright. "Agh," he muttered. "You don't have painkillers or anything…?"

"I'll send for some as soon as I finish cleaning you up." She prodded tentatively at Seto's wounds as Jou stretched over her shoulder, trying to get a clear view. "Jonouchi-san?"

"Hunh?"

"You're in my light."

"Oh." He sank back. "Sorry."

"It's quite alright. I do need some help, however. Could you hold him while I clean him off? We need to get rid of some of this blood before his wounds get infected."

"Ah, sure," he said. He hoisted Seto up, grabbing him under the armpits to keep him steady. "Does that hurt?"

"Not as much as that does." The doctor was washing his chest, trying to be as gentle as she could but even so some of the wounds reopened, seeping blood onto her washcloth and staining the basin pink. Jou stared at the slashes across his chest. They almost looked like…

Oh, hell, they were! The bastard carved his name into Seto's chest! "S-seto," Jou said shakily. "Are those…?"

"You can read, can't you?" Seto snapped harshly. "What's it look like?"

There was another smaller character below his navel, and Jou squinted to get a good look at it, but Seto covered it self-consciously with his hand. "I don't want you to see that," he muttered, wincing as the doctor patted his chest dry. "It doesn't matter."

"If it doesn' matter, then why won' you let me see it?"

"Because I just won't! God, you can be irritating," Seto snapped as the doctor rewound his bandages. He lifted the hand on his stomach so she could rewrap him.

Jou sighed and settled him back on his pillows. "Sorry," he said dully. "I was jus' tryin' t' help." He pulled Seto's blanket up over him, tucking it around his body, and then turned to leave so the doctor could finish her examination. He paused, startled, when Seto grabbed his hand.

He glanced at Seto and the brunette was blushing slightly, obviously unused to acting like this. "It's okay. I'm sorry I yelled."

Jou blinked at him. It was so rare that Seto (in his right mind, at least) apologized for anything. _He must really feel awful,_ Jou thought. " 'S okay," he said, brushing his fingers along the ridge of Seto's cheekbone. "I'll be back when she finishes takin' care of you, okay?"

Seto smiled, a wistful but genuine smile and covered Jou's fingers with his own. "Okay."

Mokuba had to resist the urge to squeal like a thirteen-year-old fangirl.


	17. Whoooooo!

Chapter Seventeen

aloneforevermore: (grins) You scare the hell out of me! No, really! That was an insanely wonderful description of death!

Anonymous: Sankyuuu...

kiokukaiba: Yeah, the character below Seto's navel was the one for "whore." More about that coming up...and thank you for the encouragement!

Saffron-Starlight: I think Mokuba would make a _good_ fangirl.

Yume no Zencho: Yeah...well...Jou's not the brightest person in the world...

kuroi-sakurapetals: Geez, you're all so violent. So many people want Yutou dead...(cries) And you're right, it wasn't constructive at ALL. Thanks.

Arora: Yeah, well, a litle humour never hurt.

mandapandabug: (sweatdrops) Sooo much death....

redrose231: As you wish, milady!

The Summer Stars: (glomps) I love you. I really do. You're so nice to meeee

Johnny-Depp-luv: Augh, the violence...the death...hey, pirate! I wanna be a pirate!

Rosalyn Angel: I love you too! I'm such a ho! I have a flag? I HAVE A FLAG!!! (cheers)

KillmeKissme: 3am? Wow...(sniffles) I'm so touched...

koalared: No! I will complete it! Wahahahaha!

Repmet: Actually...I kicked my friend in the stomach. I didn't mean to, I was just...upset. He screamed. Wimp.

BobGod: I like indignant righteous speeches.

Smoosher of Evil: Hah! I just made you squeal!

Firey Charizard: (hugs) Thank youuu...

(pants) Okay, I gotta get this chappie up before my folks get home, so...I'll reply to the rest of ya next time!

Minna-sama…aishiteru! Arigatou gozaimasu! You're so wonderful and so supportive and I'm sorry I angsted at you…normally I hate dragging real life into my stories, but I just had to get it our somewhere…thank you for all your reviews encouraging me and telling me how wonderful I am…I know I'm too sensitive and critical of myself, but encouragement like yours helps keep me balanced and sane. (does Edward Elric-like pose and grin) Arigatou!

* * *

Seto was doing as well as could be expected. His wounds were healing, and he could even walk for short distances now. He could eat on his own, no more IV, and Jou didn't even have to dress him anymore (though the blonde seriously regretted that). Yes, the bruises faded and the cuts left only faint, silvery scars, but Jou wasn't worried about that. Seto was fairly healthy, and he would, eventually, heal completely. He'd always bear the marks across his chest, and the doctor had recommended plastic surgery to have them removed. She'd even been kind enough to arrange for the surgeon to visit Seto in the hospital, so he'd be able to rid himself of the wounds before he went home. Sure, that meant another couple days in bed, but Jou doubted that Seto wanted a reminder of what had happened scrawled across his chest.

Bastard. Jou's fists involuntarily clenched and he only realized he was gritting his teeth when his jaw began to ache. How could anyone be that sadistic, that evil, to want to hurt Seto? Admittedly, Seto wasn't the most charming person in the world, but judging from his other personality, he _had_ been, prior to Yutou's training. And even Mokuba had been insisting as long as they'd known him that his brother wasn't evil, just scared. _Look at him now_, Jou thought wryly. _Congratulations, Yutou. You wanted a cold Kaiba, you got it._

In the past few days of convalescence, Seto had managed to terrify some of the hospital staff to the point where they refused to go anywhere near his room. The young nurses had flocked to him early in his stay, vying for the chance to see the great Kaiba Seto, to touch him, to talk to him. Jou had watched this with remarkable self-restraint; he'd only snapped a death threat at three of them. He could understand why they wanted to see him, he guessed. Sleeping, Seto was so innocent-looking, so…pretty. An angel. And awake, he was so drugged up on morphine that he wasn't able to order anyone around. He managed a weak smile and polite conversation when anyone spoke to him, and the girls had taken that as encouragement, thinking that maybe Seto's attitude was only a farce, a media-driven image that really wasn't him at all.

They were sadly disappointed when Seto was taken off the drugs, and he began hurling anything within reach (gift baskets, flower vases, lamps, books, etc.) at them until, sobbing, they fled from his room.

So yes, his body was recovering nicely.

No, Jou's concern was for his koi's mind. Seto had been quiet lately, lost in thought all the time, when he wasn't throwing things at the hospital staff. It bothered him, because quiet just…wasn't Seto. Sure, he was closed-off and cold, sure he refused to talk when the conversation turned towards himself, but they'd never been so awkward around one another. Jou didn't know what to say (was he supposed to apologize for Yutou's behaviour? Ignore it? Tell Seto that everything would be alright? Why was he to make a promise like that?). And Seto wasn't being especially helpful. Even when he was in the same room he wasn't quite _there_, his eyes were always distant and it took him a few moments to respond to Jou's tentative questions. And when he did, he called Jou by his name, not 'mutt' or 'puppy.' Yes, in high school the dog names had infuriated him to no end, but now that they were gone…he missed them. They had been a pet name, quite literally, and Jou found them comforting, because he'd been the only one that Seto had ever paid enough attention to to be able to assign him a nickname. Maybe it was a way of proving to himself that Seto cared enough to insult him. Jou had been anxious, thinking that perhaps he'd suffered a head trauma. But no, the doctors assured him that Seto, physically at least, was nearly healed.

Jou hadn't had the heart to bring in Aizawa-san. The hospital staff had bee pushing it, telling him they couldn't possibly in good conscience release a victim of rape and abuse without a psychiatric evaluation. Normally, Jou would have been touched by their concern, but they'd said it in front of Seto, and even the memory of the shocked pain on his koi's face hurt. Seto wouldn't talk about Yutou, wouldn't look at Jou when he spoke the name, and the doctors had _no _right to be bringing up Seto's past like that, right in front of him, because you'd have to be _blind_ to not see how much that hurt him. Jou had yelled and screamed and called the staff some rather impolite four-letter words, and Mokuba had eventually been forced to pay 'damages' from Jou's verbal attack. They'd agreed, in the end, to release Seto, as long as they were reassured that he would be seeing his own therapist at home. He'd actually dialed Aizawa-san's number, twice, to tell him what had happened, but he'd always hung up after the first ring. He didn't think Seto could handle it, not yet. Eventually he knew they'd have to start therapy, but…he wanted to delay it as long as he could, for some reason. It just didn't seem right to shove Seto at a complete stranger and expect him to talk openly with them about his problems. Hell, he didn't even like talking to Jou, and Jou was closer to him than everyone except Mokuba, and from what he'd seen, Seto didn't talk to Mokuba either.

"Seto-koi?" Jou said tenderly, squeezing Seto's hand. "Are you alright?"

In reply, Seto sighed. He did that a lot lately, and Jou hated it. It sounded defeated, like Seto had given up, given up fighting, given up trying…like he knew he couldn't beat his demons and he didn't even want to make an effort. And the worst part was, Jou didn't know how to fix it. Ever since he'd found out what Yutou did to Seto, Jou had been researching child abuse and rape in every psychology magazine he could get his hands on. They didn't help much; they told him how Seto was feeling, and maybe explained some of his odd behaviours, such as his irrational fear of cameras—okay, maybe not _so_ irrational, considering those damn photographs—but not one could tell him how to make Seto want to live again.

"Seto?"

"I'm…" Jou steeled himself for another bad lie, another cover-up because he knew Seto was far from alright. It took all of his self-restraint to not shake Seto and _force_ him to talk; he hated seeing Seto tear himself apart like this.

"…not fine."

"Seto, look, you can't keep lyin' t'—wait, what?" Jou blinked as his brain processed what Seto had just said. He'd admitted it. He'd admitted that he was in pain. That was good, right? Acceptance was the first step to recovery? "You wanna talk about it?"

Seto glanced down at his hands and Jou could see that they were fisted stubbornly in the sheets. "Actually…yes. I do."

ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOooooooooo

It was…well, Seto thought the term 'momentous moment' was too redundant to apply, but frankly, he couldn't come up with anything better. He could feel Jou's incredulous stare boring into the top of his head, and his cheeks flushed. There was no reason to be embarrassed—normal people talked. Normal people didn't throw things and curse when psychiatrists got anywhere near them. Normal people didn't shove people away, hide everything inside and manage to fuck themselves up so badly that they developed another personality to handle the pain. Normal, normal, normal.

Hah.

That was a joke.

"Er…" It was plain that Jou couldn't come up with any response, that he hadn't ever expected Seto to willingly discuss anything without it being pried out of him. Honestly, Seto was a bit surprised too. He'd never needed to talk to anyone so badly, never had so much weighing on his mind that it felt as if it would crush him, given the opportunity. He'd never been this out-of-control before, and he didn't like it.

But he liked the look Jou was giving him even less. Shock and something like joy, mingled with pity. Poor little Seto, all cut up and bruised, helpless and alone…God, he didn't _want_ pity. He wanted everything to go back to normal, back before Yutou had claimed him again, before he'd slept with Jou, before Yuugi-tachi had forced him into that fateful game of Truth or Dare. He shouldn't have told them anything, dammit. He should have kicked them out of his house.

Jou lay a comforting hand on his arm and he jerked away violently, desperately, biting his tongue to keep from crying out. His other personality hadn't been able to repress these memories, and every time anyone so much as brushed against him, he was assaulted with a barrage of recollections, each more violent and bloody than the last.

…_Glittering hazel eyes and an insane smirk as rough hands wandered over his body…_

…_Gentle whispers and harsh pounding and nipping teeth…_

…_A graceful wrist and slender fingers painting him with a knife, leaving behind a masterpiece done in wide swaths of his own blood…_

…_Those same artist's hands grabbing him by the hair and hauling him to his feet, holding his head in place and forcing him to look in the mirror at the carvings that mutilated his pale skin and the bruises and the semen streaking his body…oh God, he was so dirty…_

…_His own voice, thin and hollow and broken, keening, begging for something he'd never wanted in the first place…_

…_Ropes chafing his skin, fingers bruising his hips, a warm, wet insistent tongue halfway down his throat as he arched and moaned…_

…_A furious, possessive hiss, laying claim to him…marred, bruised, _owned_…_

Screw that. He hated it.

"Sorry," he muttered, looking away. He didn't want to hurt Jou, but he just couldn't help but flinch away, because even though he _knew_ Jou would never willingly harm him, he was still afraid. Afraid of Jou, the only person on the face of the planet that would do anything for him, and he flinched away like some…abused puppy. It was ironic; he was the dog, not Jou. An animal. A scared, useless, worthless, broken animal…nothing left to hold onto, not even his pride…

Oh God, he was so terrified and he abhorred it. He couldn't even look Jou in the eye…he knew, Mokuba knew, even Yuugi-tachi knew…he'd spent so long ensuring that no one ever found out what had happened to him that it had become part of him, warped and mutated into a cold, icy barrier that kept everyone at arm's length while he died a little more inside. Without that wall, he was nothing. He was vulnerable. Weak. Open to whatever anyone wanted to do to him…he had no control.

He couldn't stand the thought of them knowing what had happened to him…what he'd let Yutou do. There was a time when they had respected him, feared him, avoided him, and he'd give anything to have that back. But to see the pity in their eyes…he didn't want them to know how dirty he was. So much for the great Kaiba Seto…he wasn't any better than a whore. He was just like them, spreading his legs for anyone who came along, just to keep himself alive. He was disgusting.

He'd never wanted them to find out…he'd never wanted Jou to see him like this. He'd imagined that it was easy (before _this, _at least) to pretend it had never happened…after all, the scars had faded in the last seven years. Jou had been shocked when he found out, but he'd never seen Seto after Yutou got through with him. No one had. He was always given a day off after he was used (he couldn't think of it as rape, because goddammit he _wasn't_ just another statistic). He was always given twenty-four hours of blissful solitude, to clean himself up, to heal…maybe even to relax.

But this time…Yutou gave him no rest. There was no time to heal, no time for the bruises to fade. Yutou had taken him what, three, four times a night? Seto couldn't remember. It all bled together in a haze of pain and tears and pleas…he had hurt so badly.

"Seto?"

"Hm?" He jerked out of his thoughts, meeting concerned amber eyes and a sweet, sad smile. Jou reached over and smoothed Seto's hair back, and it took everything Seto had not to flinch. "I…I appreciate you coming and staying with me, but…you can go now."

"What are you talkin' about? Go where?"

"I'm fine. I'm almost healed. I'll be going home in a few days."

"Yeah, but…"

"Look, pup, you can stop with…whatever you're doing. You don't have to take care of me. I'm not going to kill myself or anything. You don't need to be responsible."

"What? I'm here 'cause I care about you, not 'cause I hafta be. I coulda left two weeks ago, if that were th' case."

"Stop it. Just…stop." Seto clenched his fists in the sheets so hard that his nails punctured the fabric. He was lying, he had to be. How could anyone care about something as broken and worthless as him? He was nothing, and it wasn't right to be putting such a strain on Jou, who had no obligation whatsoever to be here. In fact, after Seto had kicked him out, the best place Jou could be was far, far away from him. "I don't know why you're still here, but whatever you want from me—"

Seto froze, playing the words he'd just spoken over and over again in his mind. _Whatever you want from me…whatever you want…_Maybe…that was why he was here? Maybe he expected some sort of compensation for the weeks he'd spent by Seto's bedside? Maybe he was trying to make Seto think he _did_ care and then…then…

_No, _Seto told himself firmly. _This is Jou. Not Yutou. He wouldn't do that. _But, well, it was really the only thing that made sense. He'd hurt Jou badly when he'd thrown him out, why would he come running back just because Yutou beat him? There wasn't any way he could be telling the truth about…loving him. No one loved him. They'd all despised him, reviled him for being so helpless, smirked and spat and hissed at him that he was worthless, useless, no good to anyone. Gozaborou hadn't even loved him, and Seto had done everything he could to make his stepfather care.

Mokuba. Maybe Mokuba did, but then the kid hadn't been the brightest crayon in the box. He'd been horrible to him, treated him with about as much affection as Gozaborou had had for Seto, and still he came running every time Seto called, in the vain hopes that Seto would want to talk to him, to spend time with him. How many times had he come home from work and Mokuba had been waiting, wanting to show him something he'd made in school, or some test he'd gotten high marks on, and Seto had snapped at him to get to bed? He'd always been so busy, and it was hard to break the habit of shoving Mokuba away.

"Whatever you want from me," Seto whispered brokenly, eyes downcast, "just take it and get the hell away from me."

"You're an idiot," Jou said tonelessly. Seto glanced up, brows wrinkled in confusion, and Jou leaned forward to kiss him. Seto whimpered, but allowed Jou to slip his tongue past his lips and into his mouth. It wasn't like the kisses he was used to, even from Jou. There was nothing desperate or needy about it, nothing but softness and warmth and…maybe…_love._

"What was that?" Seto whispered once they'd broken apart. Jou's honey-gold eyes softened and he smiled.

"What I want," Jou said gently, "is you. I want you t' be happy. I want you t' smile and mean it, Seto-koi. I l—"

"Don't," Seto said roughly, closing his eyes. "Please don't. You don't love me, you pity me, and you're just too dense to be able to tell the difference."

"What? Seto—"

"You don't listen. Stop lying to me and get the fuck out of my room."

"I'm not—"

"Dammit mutt, I—"

"No, you listen t' me! It's _my_ turn t' talk now!" Jou's amber eyes weren't gentle anymore, they burned with a fierce, furious flame and Seto shrunk back, burrowing deeper into his pillows. "I love you. Ya hear me, moron? I'm not lyin', I don't pity you, and I'm not leadin' you on just 'cause you're good in bed. I realize you've been hurt, and I realize that you got every right t' be scared of me, but you can't make me stop carin'."

Seto flinched. Was that what he was trying to do? Make him stop caring? Yes, he decided, Jou was right. He didn't _want_ Jou to love him. He didn't deserve it. He was pushing Jou away, as surely as he'd pushed Yuugi-tachi away when he'd first met them. He wanted people to hate him. That was how it should have been, that was all he knew. Hatred and blood and violence and sex and pain…

Truth be told, he was frightened of what Jou was offering him. Jou was so gentle, so kind, and Seto, God help him, didn't know how to react. So he opted for bitter sarcasm in an attempt to drive him away. He tried to make Jou detest him, he tried to hurt him so badly that he'd never want to see Seto again, let alone help him.

It wasn't working.

"I love you. There's nothin' you can do 'bout that."

"You don't," Seto rasped hollowly, drawing his knees to his chest and curling up in a pitiful little ball of misery. "You don't, you can't…"

Jou sat down next to him. "Seto—"

"You _can't_!" Seto howled, burying his face in his knees, flinging his arms over his head to protect himself. "You can't love me! You're lying! Stop it!" He jerked away so violently when Jou reached form him that he fell off the bed. He scurried into a corner, wrapping his arms around himself, cerulean eyes huge in a pain-stricken face.

"I'm not—" Jou moved towards him and Seto screamed frantically, trying to push himself further against the wall, almost as if he were trying to disappear.

"Stop it stop it STOP IT!" Seto shook his head vehemently and Jou pulled back, afraid of what Seto might do if he tried to touch him. He was frightened, the proverbial cornered animal, and if the stereotype held true, he was more dangerous now than he'd ever been before. Jou had never seen him like this; it was one thing to watch the childlike panic on his other personality's face, but this was Seto, the _real_ Seto, and it was terrifying. His pupils were shrunk to pinpoints, his skin ghastly white, and he hugged himself so tightly that Jou could see blood welling up under his fingernails where he clutched his own arms. "You can't love me! No one can love me! I'll kill you!" Seto screwed his eyes shut, tears finally spilling down his cheeks and he shrieked as loudly as he could, "I'LL KILL YOU! EVERY LAST FUCKING ONE OF YOU! JUST LIKE I KILLED HIM! I HATE YOU!"

"What?" Jou drew back, blinking stupidly at his koi. "Seto…who'd you kill?"

"WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK? I KILLED GOZABOROU! I THREW HIM OUT A FUCKING WINDOW AND WATCHED HIM BURST ON THE PAVEMENT!"

Jou couldn't move. He couldn't breathe, and all his motor functions seemed to have abandoned him. Seto…killed him? He murdered Gozaborou? Sure, Jou would have liked to do it himself, but…he didn't know if he'd ever have the guts to actually _do_ that to someone, to watch them die like that… "You…killed Gozaborou?"

"I killed him," Seto's face crumpled and he wrenched at his hair, smearing the chestnut locks with blood. "I killed him and I lied about it. It was horrible. Have you ever dropped a watermelon on the sidewalk? Disgusting…disgusting…I didn't…I didn't mean to…I loved him…" He hid his face in his knees, shoulders heaving with the sobs that wracked his malnourished body. "I loved him more than anything, and he hated me…everything I did was for him…I wanted him to…to be proud of me." He gave an anguished wail and Jou flinched. "I wanted to be a good son…a good whore…I'm so sorry…I tried to be good…"

"Oh God, Seto," Jou whispered, easing himself off the bed and kneeling in front of his trembling koi. "You are good. You are." He gathered Seto into his arms and held him, rocking back and forth while the brunette whimpered. "You're good. I swear you're good, you're a good person. I love you." He kissed the top of Seto's head gently. "I love you."

"You can't," Seto whispered. "Everyone I love…they all die. You can't die, Jou. You can't love me, and you can't die." Seto's fists clenched around fistfuls of Jou's shirt. "I don't want to kill you, too."

"Shh…it's okay. I won' die, Seto. I promise I'll neva leave you." He buried his face in Seto's blood-streaked hair and rubbed circles on his back while he cried and gasped for air. "I won' leave."

"I don't want to kill…not again…I couldn't stop it, he…he wanted…Mokuba…he wanted Yutou to train him…" He shivered, although it was easily eighty degrees in the hospital. Every muscle in his body tensed under Jou's touch; he was trembling so violently that Jou was afraid to let him go.

"It was self-defense," Jou assured him. "After everythin' he did to you, he deserved it. Mokuba was just…just a kid. You did the right thing."

"How can you say that?" Seto pulled back from him, staring him straight in the eye, clearly in a state of disbelief. "Someone's life ended because of me. I destroyed him."

"He destroyed you," Jou shot back. "He ended _your_ life. He took away every chance you had t' be happy. He deserved it, and don' you think for a second that he didn' have it coming t' him."

"I couldn't kill Yutou. He was there, he watched me kill Father…but I couldn't do it." Seto shuddered and hid in Jou's shoulder. "Father kept a gun behind his desk. For self-defense and all…I grabbed it and I aimed at him. I…I told him if he moved, I'd kill him. He believed me. For the first time, he was afraid of me. He'd just watched me throw my own father out an office window, and he was so fucking scared of me…" Jou felt Seto smile against his arm. "I couldn't pull the trigger. Too much of a fucking coward. I should have killed him."

"You're not a cold-blooded murderer, Seto. I couldn'ta done it either. It's nothin' t' be ashamed of. You've got nothin'—and I mean _nothin'_—t' be ashamed of. I wasn' your fault Gozaborou didn' love you. Wasn' your fault Yutou raped you. None a' that had anythin' t' do wit' you. Stop blamin' yourself."

"Why?"

"You survived. You're still here, you're still strong."

"I'm…not."

"You had t' be. They haven' completely broken you, not yet." Jou heaved a weary sigh. "I wouldn've been as strong. I…I thought I had it bad, y'know. I was stupid. My dad got a little rough a few times, coupla black eyes, cracked ribs, nothin' serious. Pretty dumb, hunh?" He laughed, but it was hollow, empty, desperate sort of laugh.

"Cracked ribs aren't serious?" Seto asked with a hint of his old wry sarcasm. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"C'mon," Jou laughed. "Think how pathetic that woulda looked. I mean, who the hell'm I t' be complainin'? My problems were nothin' compared t' yours."

"That's not for me to judge," Seto said solemnly.

Jou shifted uncomfortably. He'd meant it as a lighthearted sort of joke, just to show Seto that he _was_ strong, stronger than Jou, anyways. He hadn't expected Seto to get all serious on him. It really wasn't that important…

"Look, I didn'—"

"How often did he beat you?"

Jou blinked, taken aback by the question. "He didn' _beat_ me, Seto. He got drunk an' he hit me a few times, that's all. I'm not tryin' t' make myself out t' be a martyr or nothin'."

"I know. You really don't think it was a big deal." Pretty as Seto's eyes were, they could be downright scary. They were boring into Jou's own amber orbs fiercely, intensely, and the blonde shuddered under the stare. "You're so concerned about everyone else that you don't even think about what happens to you."

"Look, this isn' about me—"

"It never is," Seto retorted. "Why do you do that all the time? It's not normal for a parent to hurt their child, period, regardless of 'how bad' you deem it. Abuse is abuse, pup."

"He didn' abuse me," Jou said tiredly. "He jus' had problems with alcohol, that's all."

"And that's why you don't drink, isn't it?"

"Er…I guess."

"And why you get incredibly upset when someone you care about is wasted. I remember prom, puppy. Don't lie."

Jou flushed and looked away. Most of his friends (excluding Yuugi, of course) had been completely smashed that night. He'd very nearly gotten into a fight with Honda, and for the first time in his life he'd run away. There was something just…too familiar about the wobbling gait, the glazed eyes and the drunken smile. He'd never been able to lift a hand against his father when he was drunk, and it seemed the same held true for his friends. Honda had taken a swing at him and Jou had bolted, locking himself in the boy's bathroom until Honda had sobered up enough to apologize. Fortunately, the rest of them were rather happy drunks, and Jou had escaped the night with nothing more serious than a black eye and a bloody nose. "Yeah, I guess I don' like it when people drink. Might jus' be Honda, though. He gets kinda—"

"Violent?" Seto supplied. "He nearly broke your nose."

"He didn'—"

"He did. Why are you defending him?"

"Because he's my best friend!"

"He hurt you!"

"He didn' mean to!" Jou snarled, glaring at Seto. They stared at each other in furious silence for a few moment before Seto sighed and looked away.

"I'm sorry, puppy. I didn't mean to upset you. I was just trying to make a point."

"And that would be?"

"I don't know. That you're a better person than I am? You lived with abuse and you try to make the best out of it. You throw yourself into helping others, rather than being bitter about what happened to you. Me, I just became an asshole."

"You can' really compare us, Seto. I was never raped or anythin'. Just knocked around a little."

"I never was, not really. I suppose Father wanted to keep me in relatively good condition. Up until now, Yutou's never beaten me like this."

"Once is enough," Jou muttered. "Is this relationship really a good idea, Seto?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, we're jus' lickin' each other's wounds. I need something t' take care of, you want someone to protect you…"

"Products of twisted pasts," Seto sighed. "Somehow we found each other, even through all of this."

"My past wasn'—"

"Yes, I know, wasn't as bad as mine. If it makes you feel better, fine, it wasn't as bad. Regardless, I never lived on the streets. If there was one thing I never lacked, it was money. I always had a warm place to sleep, food to eat, things like that. I never had to live with a drunken father, I never depended on a gang to be my family. And," he said with a faint smile, "I had Mokuba. I had someone that loved me, even through all that. I don't think you did."

"I had a family."

"Your mother left you with her abusive husband because she didn't want you, Jonouchi." Jou flinched. "You had a sister you would have died for, a sister you devoted your life to protecting, and what did she do as soon as she'd gotten her operation?"

"Moved to America with Mom," Jou whispered. "She was better off there, anyway. And she came back."

"Did she even call you while she was there? Has she called you very often since?"

"No. She was busy. Still is. She's going to be a fashion designer, you know. Got a lot of stuff t' do."

"And she can't take five minutes of her life to call the brother that saved her eyesight? Without you she wouldn't be able to see clothes, much less design them."

"Who the hell are you kidding?" Jou snapped. "Yuug saved her, not me. I _lost_, in case you've forgotten. Yuug beat me. He gave me the money."

"It wasn't precisely a fair duel, Jonouchi. Two against one?"

"What the hell're you—" Jou blinked. Oh. It…it _had_ been two against one. Yuugi and Yami against him. It _hadn't_ been fair, had it?

"And the incredible thing is, you'll let Yuugi take all the credit for saving her sight. You won't even get angry that she never calls you. You don't hold your mother responsible for leaving you."

Jou shrugged. "I'm not an angry person," he said simply. "And she was the one who took care a' me after you dumped me."

"Because Yuugi told her to."

Jou growled. "Did not."

"You're in denial."

"Fuck you."

"I'm afraid I'll have to pass on that. Are you mad at me?"

Jou sighed and pulled Seto into his lap. "Of course not. You're right. I jus' don' like talkin' about me. That's all."

ooooooOOOOOOOOOOoooooo

"Seto!" Mokuba bounded down the stairs and threw his arms around his brother, nearly knocking him over in the process. "You're okay!"

Seto winced in pain. "Yeah, I'm just peachy," he managed to choke out. "I can't breathe, Mokuba, you mind…?"

"Sorry," Mokuba laughed, releasing his hold on his brother. "I'm just so glad to see you walking again!" He seemed to be unable to contain his joy; he bounced happily on the balls of his feet, hands fidgeting restlessly. "The doctors said you're alright now?"

Seto nodded. "I'm just supposed to take it easy for a while. Surgery went well, at least." He tugged down the collar of his shirt to expose new, pink skin where the ugly wounds had previously been. "Skin grafts," he explained when Mokuba's eyes narrowed in confusion.

"Hey, nice to see you again." Otogi had wandered in, apparently from the kitchen, judging by the anpan he was eating. "Been damn quiet around here without you throwing anything at me or threatening to kill me for corrupting your baby brother." Otogi tweaked Seto's nose roguishly, slinging an arm around Mokuba's shoulders. "I'm glad you're not dead."

"Thank you," Seto snapped sarcastically. "I'm glad I'm not dead too."

Otogi grinned and ambled into the living room. A second later, Jou, Seto and Mokuba heard him flip on the television.

"So…um…I should prob'ly be goin'," Jou said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Don' wanna hit traffic an' all."

"Don't be stupid," Seto said, hanging his trademark trenchcoat in the hall closet. "You're staying for dinner."

"I am?"

"Yes. Don't argue with me. And no, Mokuba, you can't cook."

"Aww, nii-samaaaa," Mokuba whined, sticking out his tongue at his brother. "I promise I won't set fire to anything this time." Jou blinked; Mokuba didn't seem to be joking. "I cooked for Ryuuji the entire time you were gone, and—"

"Otogi," Seto called, interrupting Mokuba. "Do you mind if Mokuba cooks?"

There was a crash, a mad scramble and suddenly Otogi was at the door, bracing himself on the walls, eyes wide and panicked. "Dear God, no!" he cried. "Don't let him anywhere near the kitchen, please! For the sake of all that's holy!"

Yeah, so maybe Otogi was a little dramatic, but he appeared genuinely frightened of Mokuba's cooking. Seto gave his brother a triumphant smile and Mokuba glowered.

"If you think you're getting any tonight…" he muttered as he stalked past Otogi, radiating fury from every pore. The actor winced and followed him.

"Aw, Mokuba, don't do that…I wasn't serious…Mokuba, please!"

Seto watched them go with a crooked grin. "I love pushing his buttons," he confessed to Jou. "Now. We're going to get cleaned up for dinner, and then you and me are going to talk."

Jou nodded dumbly, trailing after Seto. Something had changed, something had finally pulled him out of his depression. It was as if leaving the hospital had flipped a switch, and he was back to normal…no, _better _than normal because Seto would never have been this lighthearted before. He'd spent the whole ride home humming along to the songs on the radio, (inclusing, surprisingly, The Rasmus…Jou hadn't even known he liked English music) tapping the beat on the dashboard and pointing out the blossoming sakura trees along the roadside, as if he thought Jou might miss their splendour otherwise, since the blonde was concentrating on driving, and not on trees. He made a scathingly sarcastic comment every time Jou remarked on it, calling him 'mutt' and 'puppy' just like he'd always done. Jou couldn't have been more pleased.

"Um, Seto?"

Seto pushed open his bedroom door and waved Jou inside. "Yes?"

"Why're you so happy all of a sudden? You were pretty out of it in the hospital…"

Seto grunted in agreement, rifling through his closet. He tossed a black shirt at Jou, who barely managed to catch it before it hit him in the face. Jou took a moment to admire the subtle rippling muscles in Seto's back as the brunette pulled his shirt off and searched for a clean one. Jou coughed suddenly, realizing he was staring, and directed his attention on his shoes, which were a considerably safer place to be staring. He could see Seto dressing out of the corner of his eye and he kind of wished that he hadn't denied himself the view, but…it seemed kind of wrong, boyfriend or not. "I mean, not that I don't want you to be happy, it's just—"

"Just what?" Seto stuck his head out of the closet, arching an eyebrow at his koi. "Put that on, pup. I doubt you've changed your shirt for a while."

Jou flushed. "Do I smell? I didn't exactly have time to go home and change, y'know. I was tryin' t' take care a' you. Least I showered."

"I know, I know."

"Answer my question," Jou demanded, stripping off his dirty t-shirt and replacing it with the black one. It was a nice shirt, soft and comfortable, but it kind of…_clung_ to him in a strange way.

"Or what?" Seto asked teasingly. Jou padded quietly over to the closet, wrapping his arms around Seto's waist from behind. He nudged Seto's throat gently with his nose and something that might have been a purr rumbled deep in the CEO's chest.

"Or I'll tickle you to death," Jou said.

"Hm?" Seto barely had time to register what he'd said before Jou attacked him, fingers mercilessly manipulating his sensitive stomach. Unable to stand, Seto crashed to the floor, giggling helplessly and halfheartedly batting Jonouchi away.

"Augh! Puppy, stoppit!" he cried, trying to curl up and protect himself. Jou was relentless, slipping his hands up Seto's shirt for better access. "Alright, alright! I'll tell you! Just stop tickling me!"

Jou collapsed, laughing, lying on top of Seto and hugging him for all he was worth. Seto panted, attempting to catch his breath, tears of mirth clinging to his eyelashes. "Bad puppy," he murmured, burying his face in Jou's hair, kissing the top of his head gently. "That was mean."

Jou pouted adorably. "But you never tell me anythin', Seto. I had t' do _somethin'_."

"You want my answer? I'm—in—a—good—mood—because—of—you." Seto said, assaulting Jou's face with a barrage of quick kisses in between each word. Jou chuckled, nuzzling deeper into Seto's chest, just enjoying the moment, the feel of their bodies pressed together, fingers entwined, peaceful and calm and so gentle.

"It's over," Seto sighed blissfully. "It's over. I'm finally free, Jou. I've never been so…_liberated_ before. I was always accountable to someone, always held responsible for everything. I was punished for the stupidest things, and I always blamed myself, but…I don't think it was ever really my fault. "

"It wasn'," Jou said calmly. "I'm glad you finally figured that out."

"So am I." Seto pushed himself up so that he was supported by his elbows, Jou still lying across his chest. "I have to talk to you."

"Mmm? 'Bout what?" Jou asked.

"I think you know already, but…I want to do this right."

"Do what right?" Jou was thoroughly confused. Sure, a kind, gentle Seto had thrown him off, but he had absolutely no idea what the hell his koi was talking about.

"Before you left, when we were in New York," Seto began, eyes clouding as if the memory hurt him, "you told me something. Do you remember?"

"I do."

"That was all that kept me alive. When things got bad, really bad, I'd sort of…leave. I let Yutou do whatever he wanted to me, and I just thought. About you." Seto glanced away and Jou stared at his koi. Was he _blushing_?

"What are you—"

"Shh," Seto whispered, meeting his gaze again and pressing a finger to Jou's lips. "Let me finish, puppy."

Jou nodded dumbly.

"I know how much I hurt you when I said I didn't care. I didn't mean it, and you know that. I wanted to protect you. I didn't want you going through what I did. I'm sorry."

" 'S okay. Not like you had much of a choice or nothin'."

"I just wanted you to know…" Yes, he was definitely blushing now, a light pink flush across his pale cheeks. Jou smirked at the sight, marveling at the strangeness of it all. From rivals, to sparring partners, to almost-friends to…ah, well, life didn't get much better than this.

"I love you."

Jou was sure that he looked like an idiot, lying on Seto's chest and grinning at him like the Cheshire Cat, but he couldn't help it. It was too much, too good. Yutou was gone, Seto was his again, and he'd had even started being nice on occasion! It was almost sweet how shy he looked, smiling hopefully up at the blonde nestled on his chest. Jou kissed him gently. "I love you too, you moron."

Jou didn't think he'd ever seen Seto like this. The scowl was gone, the ice-chip eyes were almost warm…and he was smiling. Jou was reminded of the old, dusty photograph he'd found in the Kaiba brothers' 'library,' and he realized that for the first time since they were children he was seeing Seto happy. It was a genuine, contented smile and it was incredible how it lit up his face, made him look so…un-Kaiba-like.

He was cute.

Jou kissed him again, more insistently this time. "Y'know, your carpet's pretty comfortable…wanna test it out?"

Seto smacked him, and Jou wasn't entirely sure it was playfully. "No, you perverted little mutt."

"We're alright now?" Jou mumbled, resting his head on Seto's chest again.

"As alright as I think we're going to get. Thank you, Jonouchi."

"Fer what?"

"For not running away."

"No problem," Jou yawned. "No problem."

oooooOOOOOOOOoooooooo

There was no reason to panic. None at all. Mokuba was overreacting. The books weren't gone, the maid must have moved them back into the library. Of course. That had to be it. Mokuba clutched the carved mahogany of his bedside table desperately, dread gripping his heart in an iron vise and weakening his knees. There was no way…no way anyone could have found those books, because who could have known to look for them?

Who could have known they were there?

……

…oh God.

He'd been so worried, so worried about getting his brother to the hospital…Yutou must have had a key, some way into the house and Mokuba, in his foolishness, hadn't alerted the police until they'd gotten to the hospital, until after he was sure that his brother would live. Yutou was intelligent, brilliant, if somewhat crazed, and he would have figured out immediately what has happened…finding them gone, Seto's bloodstains in Mokuba's bed, and the books, those goddamn books on the bedside table…!

"Mokuba?" Jou knocked on the doorframe and stuck his head inside the room. "What're you doin' in here with the lights off?"

"Jou," Mokuba said in an oddly strangled voice that didn't belong to him, "I'm so sorry."

"Eh?" Jou flicked on the lights and crossed the room, grabbing Mokuba by the shoulder and spinning him around. Mokuba stared blankly at the ground, eyes wide, face paler than Jou would have thought possible. "What're you talkin' about?"

"The books. Seto's books. They're gone, Yutou took them!"

"Books? What books? Slow down, Mokuba, I don' undastand." He pulled the boy towards him, wrapping comforting arms around his shoulders as Mokuba buried his face in Jou's chest.

"The albums. The…the pictures Seto kept from…"

"Fuck."

Mokuba nodded miserably. "I was just so worried about Seto, I didn't even think about them until just now…I left them on my bedside table, and I thought maybe a maid put them back in the library, but the maids aren't allowed in the library, they wouldn't have known where the books went."

"Why would Yutou want them?"

"I don't know," Mokuba said dazedly, shaking his head. "I have no idea."

"Think, Mokuba. There's gotta be a reason, that bastard's got a reason for every fuckin' thing he does."

Mokuba tried, he really did, but he couldn't come up with anything. He didn't seem like the type to want a memento, so that was out. He'd seen the pictures before anyways, and they were a poor substitute for the real thing. Seto didn't even _want_ the pictures, so he couldn't be doing it to hurt him…then why? Sure, Yutou was crazy but it was a cunning, brilliant type of crazy. There had to be a reason. There just had to…

Wait…what was it his brother had said?

_Seto shook his head. "It won't work, Mokuba. He's too powerful, too influential. If word leaked to the press, it would be over. Everything I've worked for would be gone, just like that." Seto drew a shuddering breath. "I can't do anything. I'm sorry."_

He…he was going to use it as blackmail.

"Blackmail! Shit, Jou, he wants Seto back! We've got to tell him!"

"Tell him what? Jou sank onto Mokuba's bed, head in his hands. "Tell him his psycho lover-boy stole somethin' that could ruin his life? I don' really wanna be the one t' break it t' him, how 'bout you?" He scrubbed his hands quickly through his hair, tugging at the golden strands, frustrated. "All I want is for Yutou to go away. I want him t' leave Seto alone…he's gone through enough."

"Yeah, I know." Mokuba dropped onto the bed next to Jou, leaning his head on he blonde's shoulder. "It's not fair."

There came a gentle knock on the door, tentative, almost shy.

"Who is it?" Mokuba asked.

"Me. Otogi."

"C'mon in," Jou said. Otogi pushed the door open just enough to slip inside, closing it quickly behind him.

"Where's Seto?"

"Sleepin'," Jou said. "What's wrong?" Otogi looked nervous, very much so. He was pale and his hands trembled as he fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. Jou had never seen Otogi nervous before, never seen anything buck that same cocky grin on his face, and it was extremely unnerving. "Togi? You okay?"

"Have you watched the news yet today?"

"Nooo…why?"

Otogi sighed and reached for Mokuba's TV. He flipped it on and flicked through the channels quickly. "There's…something I think you should see."

A/N: Hell, that was long. Really, really long. I hope you enjoyed the little insight into Jou's life. No, I didn't make Jou the abused-bishie in this one, but I was trying to express that, although he hasn't had the most fantastic life, he still sees himself as better off than anyone else. It's not healthy, living in denial like that. (shakes finger) Bad Jou. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed the chapter…this damn thing's turning into an EPIC. Geez.


	18. Shatter

Chapter Eighteen

Someday, I'll have time to do my review responses! Not today, however,,,ooh, but January 2nd is my birthday!Wooh!

"And in other news today, several folders full of photographs were anonymously delivered to several news networks early this morning. After contacting said networks, it was determined that they were, in face, copies of the same photographs. All are rather explicit in subject matter, and appear to be of Kaiba Seto, world's youngest multibillionaire. Nothing is known about the origin of these photographs, save for the attached notes—Hirasaki, zoom in on this—"

Hirasaki did, and the screen blurred for a second before it refocused. Scrawled across the paper in bright red ink was the character for 'whore.' Seto gave a strangled moan and clasped his hand self-consciously over his stomach.

"As of yet, Kaiba Corp has made no official statement, nor have we heard from Kaiba-san. Quite a shocking revelation, eh Koushiro?"

Koushiro shook his head at his fellow newscaster. "I can't imagine this is good business for Kaiba Corp. In fact, stock has fallen—"

"This has been running all day?" Seto whispered, gripping the edge of the couch to keep himself upright. "Papers, too?" Otogi tossed a newspaper on the coffee table in front of Seto and the CEO flinched away at what he saw—himself, curled up on his side on a red silk-clad bed, completely naked, shooting the camera a coy, sultry look from beneath mascara-dark eyelashes. "Fuck."

"Yeah, and it's out on the Internet, too," Mokuba said, eyes glued to his laptop as he tapped away on the keyboard. "Except these aren't censored," he sighed. "Seto, what do we do?"

"Rip Yutou's throat out?" Jou suggested helpfully. When the other three glared at him, he threw up his hands in self-defense. "I thought it sounded pretty logical."

"I would have thought he'd use 'em for blackmail," Mokuba said. "Not this. This doesn't even make sense; what could be possibly gain by ruining Seto's reputation? Even Yutou's not _that _crazy."

"It's a last-ditch effort," Otogi muttered, flipping though the paper. "He's desperate. He knows he can't get Seto back, so he's going to ruin him. Break him, once and for all. Bastard."

"We have to have a press conference. Release a statement. If I don't do something, we'll be broke by the end of the week." Seto scrubbed his hands through his hair, growling in frustration. "What do I say? What do I tell them?"

"I-I don't know, nii-sama," Mokuba sighed, absentmindedly twirling a lock of jet-black hair, a habit he'd picked up from Otogi. "I mean, it's pretty obvious those pictures haven't been Photoshopped…"

They all sat in stupefied silence for a good ten minutes before Seto sat bolt upright, eyes wide. "I've got it," he marveled. "Why didn't I see it before?"

"Got what?" Mokuba asked. "What're you going to do?"

Seto grinned coldly. "I'm going to do exactly what Yutou thinks I won't," he hissed.

"Hunh?" Jou blinked at his koi. "What's that?"

"I'm going to tell them the truth."

ooooooooOOOOOOOOOOooooooo

"I dunno, Seto, It doesn' seem like a good plan t' me. You really wanna go on national TV an' tell all of Japan what happened t' you?"

No, no he didn't. He'd much prefer to leap out of his office window than to confess to the entire nation, and he'd probably do so if he didn't have the sneaking suspicions that a new channel somewhere had already bought the rights to the coverage of his death. The media had plagued him since he'd taken over the company, apparently intrigued by his stepfather's abrupt 'suicide' and Seto's own rags-to-riches story, coupled with the fact that Seto absolutely refused to do interviews. He was an enigma, untouchable, and the media had interpreted him as some sort of mysterious, dashing, rich, romantic pretty-boy idol. Actually, the reason he refused was that he was afraid something like this would come up, some question about his childhood that he wouldn't be able to answer without giving everything away.

And now he was going to do exactly what he'd been avoiding since he was sixteen.

"I have to," he said wearily. "I can't have the public thinking I'm some sort of child whore or something. My PR advisors think it's a good idea."

"They're shootin' for sympathy, you know that, dontcha?" Jou rested a hand on his koi's shoulder and Seto covered it with his own fingers. "You don' even want my pity, but you're gonna have them runnin' bad reenactment of your life on those crappy women's networks for years to come."

Seto sighed. "I know. But…maybe sympathy is better than outright disgust. I didn't do any of it willingly. I know that and you know that, but the public? They see what they want to see, and they want to see someone crash and burn."

"It won' be you. You're doin' the right thing, Seto. Maybe we can get Yutou arrested once an' fer all, ne?" Jou wound his arms loosely around Seto's neck. "I'm behind you, you know that?"

Seto twisted around and kissed him on the nose. "I know. Thank you."

"You don' need t' keep thankin' me. S'what I'm here for."

Seto smiled weakly at him and Jou buried his face in the warmth of the side of his neck. "I love you, you know that? Not matter what happens, billionaire or not, I still love you. Always will."

"I love you too."

oooooooOOOOOOOOooooooo

"How do I fix this?"

"Don't think you can."

Jou sighed and took a drag on his cigarette. Mind you, he wasn't a nicotine addict. He never bought his own cigarettes, and he hadn't smoked in almost a year. But when he was really stressed, the aptly-named 'cancer sticks' tended to calm him down. Weed worked too, but Jou had had enough of illegal drugs to last a lifetime during his gang days. "Yeah, I know." He spread his cards out in front of him, flashing Honda a triumphant smile. "Royal flush."

"Shit," Honda growled good-naturedly. "You're gonna own my bike by the time we're done."

"Nah. Can't ride it as well as you. Be a shame to take away the only thing you're good at." He held out his hand. "Now pay up, Honda-chaaaan."

Honda grumbled and fished in his pocket for a crumpled thousand-yen bill. "It's nice to see you again, but do you hafta clean me outta house an home every time you're in a bad mood?"

"I'm not in a bad mood," Jou protested, exhaling a cloud of smoke and watching it spiral up towards the ceiling. "Just thinkin'. Is it so wrong for me to wanna spend time with my best friend?"

"When your other option is spending time with a sexy lil' thing like Kaiba? Yeah, just a little." Jou glared at him and he laughed. "Hey, just 'cause I'm dating a chick doesn't mean I've gone blind. He is pretty cute."

"Yeah, he is, isn't he?" Jou smiled wistfully. "Damn cute."

"So, back to this media thing," Honda said, shuffling the cards. "When's he supposed to make the statement?"

"Thursday," Jou said glumly. "You think it's a good idea?"

"I wouldn't have the guts to do it." Honda shrugged and dealt the cards. "Kaiba's smart. He knows what he's doing. Trust him for once."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jou stubbed out the remains of his cigarette in the ashtray. "Trust him for once?"

"Well, you know. You kinda tend to try to take care of everyone. Kaiba's a big boy, Jou. You gotta let him walk on his own."

"I do not," Jou said indignantly. He shuffled through his hand, glaring at the cards as if they'd mortally offended him.

After a few moments Jou spoke up. "Hey, Honda?"

"Yeah?"

"D'you think I try too hard t' make people happy? I mean in a bad way, like I don't take care of myself or somethin'?"

Honda snorted. " 'Course you do. That's what makes you Jou. Self-sacrificing to a fault."

"Why didn't you eva tell me?"

"I thought you knew."

"How was I supposed t' know?" Jou was getting irritated; he liked hearing this from Honda about as much as he did from Seto. Less, maybe, 'cause he wasn't dating Honda.

Honda shrugged. "Thought it was kinda obvious. I mean, how many weeks did you spend in Duelist Kingdom, just to get the chance to save Shizuka? And then you threw yourself into whatever cause Yami was fighting for, even thought you never had any responsibility for it whatsoever, not to mention the time you willingly went back and joined that gang that threatened to beat us up... You have a kind of hero-thing going on. Ask anyone."

Jou held out his hand for another cigarette. "I do not."

"Lemme guess," Honda said with an easy grin, offering the pack and a lighter to Jou. "Seto said somethin' about you always tryin' to protect him from everything?"

Jou snorted, exhaling a cloud of smoke through his nostrils. "Shut up and play the game so I can take your money."

ooooooOOOOOOOOOoooooooo

"Kaiba-san, are you sure about this?" Seto's PR advisor looked nervous, mopping his forehead with an already-damp handkerchief. Needless to say, this did nothing to ease the knots of panic twisting in the brunette's stomach, but he maintained his outward calm, even managing a sneering smile. He was well-trained.

"Of course I'm sure. Trust me. Have I ever failed you before?"

"N-no, of course not, sir. But you've always avoided the media, I just want to be sure that you'll be able to handle yourself out there."

"I'm Kaiba Seto. I can handle it."

"But Aizawa-san—"

"Is an idiot. I'm not going to have a panic attack on live TV. I'll be fine."

"Sir, your health—"

"My health is none of your concern." Seto turned to face his mirror, adjusting his demure blue silk tie. He was dressed in his finest Armani suit, all black with aforementioned tie being the only bit of colour on him. He looked every inch the ruthless businessman, what with his broad shoulders, harsh glare and his six-foot-eight stature. He was more than determined, he was downright terrifying, and the poor advisor could only hope that none of Kaiba's younger fans would be watching this press conference. _He_ was about to burst into tears when those cold blue eyes turned on him, and he'd been working with Seto since the boy was sixteen.

"I trust you, Kaiba-san. I just want what's best for you and the company."

"Not necessarily in that order," Seto snapped. "Get out of my sight."

"Y-yes sir," the advisor stammered, hurrying out of Seto's office and shutting the door gently, lest he irritate his boss further. He passed a pretty blonde boy lounging by the door and the kid greeted him with a cocky half-wave, pushing himself away from the wall. "I wouldn't go in there, if I were you," the advisor warned. "He's in one of his moods. He won't see you."

"Oh, he'll see me," the blonde assured him with a casual grin. Amber eyes glinted mischievously, and he held out his hand. "I'm Jonouchi Katsuya. Seto's lover. Pleased t' meetcha."

"N-Nakano," the advisor said, taking Jou's hand. Oh, this was bad, bad, _bad_. Obviously Kaiba was trying to ruin his own business, what other explanation could there be? Sleeping with a man, and not just any man, but the co-owner of the Kame empire…Kaiba-san never did anything halfway, did he? Nakano shuddered at the thought of having to deal with all those distraught teenage girls.

"You sure got some weird people workin' for ya," Jou said, closing the door behind him. "That sweaty little man just ran away cryin'."

"He does that," Seto said flatly, jerking a brush through his hair for approximately the five hundredth time since he'd sat down. "He'll be fine."

Jou wound his arms loosely around Seto's shoulders, nuzzling the back of his neck gently. "You okay?" It was a stupid question and he knew it; Seto was anything but. He'd been pacing all day, swearing at anyone who got in his way, even Mokuba. Of course, Mokuba was more than able to defend himself now; he'd hurled a rather expensive vase at his dear brother's head, followed closely by a colourful volley of curses in three different languages. At least Seto knew his expensive schooling was paying off.

"Fine," Seto growled. "Abso-fucking-lutely fine."

"Bullshit," Jou said cheerfully, continuing his quiet exploration of Seto's neck and shoulders. He nudged the collar of Seto's shirt aside with his nose and began a concentrated assault on his koi's sensitive skin, biting and licking alternately, never enough to leave a mark. The last thing Seto needed was for someone to point out a massive hickey on his neck during a conference about the CEO's rather questionable sex life.

So he kept it small, humming deep in his throat because he knew Seto could feel the gentle vibrations. He pulled Seto's earlobe into his mouth, his tongue curling around it slowly as he smiled to himself. Seto was trying to hold back, he could tell, but his breathing hitched every so often and every muscle in his lean body had suddenly tensed to the point where it seemed he might break.

"Mutt…" Seto groaned and Jou grinned. He loved doing this to Seto, paying him back for all the times he'd left the blonde flustered and hot in favour of work, or possibly food. Seto had never shown such an interest in eating before, and Jou was sure it was just an excuse to torture him. Of course, Seto couldn't do anything about it. Not now. Not with his conference in less than ten minutes. Jou would pay for it when the reporters had left, sure, but for now, Seto was his to play with.

Needless to say he was rather shocked when Seto whirled around and grabbed him by the back of his head, crushing their mouth together in an altogether domineering manner. He nipped harshly at Jou's lower lip until the blonde, more out of shock than anything, complied and allowed Seto access to that honeyed interior. Seto was rarely this demanding, only when he was supremely stressed out, and Jou knew better than to fight, at least if he wanted to emerge from this encounter with his tongue completely intact.

"Wish me luck," Seto purred, his lips so close to Jou's ear that the blonde shivered at every hot breath.

"Luck," Jou breathed heavily, eyes half-lidded and dark with desire. His cheeks were flushed, hair mussed where Seto had grabbed him, lips pink and slightly swollen from Seto's attack.

A quick, chaste kiss on the forehead and Seto was gone in a swirl of Armani, silk and chestnut hair, leaving Jou sitting on his office floor, quite dazed.

"Bastard," the blonde whispered, trying to tug his clothes back into order.

oooooooOOOOOOOOOooooo

Seto couldn't remember being unhappier. This was stupid, a bad idea, he should just turn around and leave now. Before things got any worse. _How can things get worse?_ he snarled at himself, clenching his fists so hard that perfectly-manicured nails dug into pale flesh. He was about to go on live TV, about to admit to all of Japan that he'd been abused and molested and…his stomach twisted and he slammed his palm against the wall for support, suddenly weak. He was going to be sick, he was going to throw up, oh _God_ he didn't want to do this…he couldn't stand the shame, the embarrassment.

He could see it now; the pitying mothers, clucking their tongues sympathetically and exchanging a "Poor boy," every time he drove past them, the averted, awkward glances from teenagers that had once hero-worshipped him, the complete blissful oblivion of children too young to know what had happened to him. Someday though, they'd come across an old news clipping, an article in a magazine, gossip from a friend, a battered cassette tape of today's interview and they'd gasp in horror as they realized how sick and twisted he _really_ was, how tainted, how unstable, how…

God damnit, no. He couldn't afford to do this right now, everything he'd worked for, everything he'd spent the last seven years striving for would be a waste, all for nothing. He had to be calm, cool, collected. He had to be Kaiba. Not Seto, he couldn't be weak. Kaiba. Strong. Cold. Angry.

_M-mou hitori no boku?_

Oh, hell. This was NOT what he needed right now. He had to be alert, careful, not distracted by some damn voice in his head. _What?_ he snapped, hoping he could clear whatever it was up quickly, before he had to go onstage. _What the hell do you want?_

_S-sorry. I j-just th-thought you sh-should know that M-master's here—_

_What? Where?_ Seto's heart literally skipped a beat and he whirled around, startled blue meeting calm hazel. Seto took an automatic step backward like an animal backed into a corner, tensing his muscles and baring his teeth, although he was sure he looked ridiculous acting like this while wearing an Armani suit. Yutou grinned, shoved his hands casually into his pockets and watched Seto much like a hawk would watch its prey, waiting for him to make the first move. Waiting for him to run.

Well damnit, Seto was done with running. If he was facing up to his fears, he was facing all of them. Starting here and now with this smug sonofabitch—

He stared at his clenched fist, dazed, as if trying to ascertain that it was indeed his hand that had struck at Yutou. Yes, it was his, it was his pale skin and elegant fingers and short, sharp fingernails and the watch Mokuba had bought him for his eighteenth birthday, even though Seto had insisted that he didn't want anything, because he hated his birthdays anyways.

He'd darted forward and swung a harsh roundhouse punch to Yutou's jaw, smirking in triumph when it connected with a solid _thud_. Yutou had staggered back, clutching the side of his face, his gray-chocolate-green eyes narrowing in anger. "You little bitch," Yutou seethed. "Is that any way to greet me?"

"Figured it would be less messy than a gun," Seto snapped back. "What the hell are you doing here? Haven't you done enough?"

Yutou checked his fingers to make sure he wasn't bleeding, then glared at the icy-eyed CEO. "Not nearly, little dragon."

"Why are you—"

"I just wanted to see how you'd handle this." Yutou brushed himself off calmly, tugging his suit jacket into order. "You know, I would have thought you'd listen when I told you that you were one of my investments. I meant every word, Seto-kun."

"Don't you _dare_ call me by my first name. And what do you mean, investment?"

"I didn't become a shareholder to get closer to you. Don't flatter yourself, Kaiba-kun. I put a considerable amount of money into your company, and I've given you more media attention than you could every get, holding those stupid gaming tournaments. You should be thanking me."

Seto could only stare at him. "You're amazing," he said tonelessly. "You actually believe that, don't you? You humiliated me in front of the entire nation, you've put my company in more danger than it's ever been in, and you think you did me a _favor_?" It was astounding how skewed Yutou's priorities were…had he no sense of decency?

"I don't see why you should be humiliated," Yutou replied nonchalantly, inspecting his immaculately-groomed fingernails for any trace of dirt. "You did what you had to. Everyone makes sacrifices for fame and fortune, Kaiba-kun. You should be proud of what you've done."

"Proud?" Seto laughed quietly, madly, and he took a step forwards. Perhaps it was his dead, unfeeling eyes, perhaps the predatory stance, but Yutou stepped back, almost as if he were…afraid? Seto took another experimental step and, sure enough, Yutou backed away. "You think I should be _proud_ of what I've done?" They continued this same dance until Yutou was pressed against the wall and Seto was so close he could feel every halting breath the elder man took. Yutou seemed nervous; he was pale and shaking, and Seto had never felt more in control than he did now. He slammed his palms against the wall on either side of the blonde's head, enjoying the convulsive flinch Yutou gave. "I should be proud of being a whore? That's what I am to you, a whore, right? That's what you've been telling me since I was fourteen."

"I—" Yutou shuddered and turned his head away. Damn it, those _eyes_, so angry and accusing and…he hadn't done anything wrong, he had no reason to feel so guilty! No reason at all! He'd _saved_ Seto, saved him from a lifetime of pain and suffering. It was his own fault for being so sensitive, so pretty, so perfect. Yutou had done nothing wrong.

Seto grinned. Oh, he _loved_ this, he loved the raw power coursing through his veins, the adrenaline, the way Yutou jerked away from him and just looked so damn scared…he could see why Yutou had done what he did…

God.

Oh God, no.

Yutou watched, confused, as horror spread over Seto's face and he pulled back, clutching his hands to his chest. He couldn't be like that, he couldn't! He'd always read that abused children tend to carry on the trend, but he'd never believed it. How could anyone who lived through that do the same thing to another person? How could they live with themselves, making another human being go through what they did? It didn't seem possible, and even if it was, h was the exception, wasn't he? He'd never turn out like that, he'd never understand why someone could become like that. And, so it seemed, now he knew.

It was a sense of power he'd never had. He'd never been the aggressor, never been in control, never seen Yutou afraid of him, rather than the other way around. And he liked it, damn him, he _liked_ it. Yutou had done more than screw with his mind. He'd done more than poison Seto's dreams, wreck his childhood, reduce him to a pathetic, frightened little scrap of what he could have been. Yutou had bred a spark of hatred so deep that he ran every risk of repeating his Master's mistakes. He hadn't broken Seto.

He'd made Seto just like him.

Seto gave a choked sob and collapsed to his knees, retching, as his stomach tried to expel what it didn't have. He'd been so nervous he hadn't eaten in at least two days, and he regretted it. Bile burned his throat, tears coursed down his cheeks as he dry-heaved, body convulsing in pain. He thought he screamed, but he wasn't sure; it was hard to hear over the pounding of his heart.

There were cool hand on either side of his head, holding his hair away from his face, and a calm voice was whispering something he couldn't understand. Slowly, the spasms stopped, his stomach returned to its proper place and he could breathe again. He panted heavily, his body shaking with fine trembles, as if he'd just run a marathon. He'd never been so exhausted in his life.

"Are you alright?" The hands moved to his forehead, almost as if checking for fever. Seto nodded weakly before his brain registered exactly who was talking to him. He wrenched away from Yutou's gentle grasp, eyes wide.

"Don't look at me like that. I couldn't very well just leave you there."

"Why not?" Seto whispered. "It'd probably be the kindest thing you've ever done for me."

"Tch," Yutou replied with an arrogant jerk of his head. "So ungrateful. Go make your speech, Kaiba-kun. I'm interested in seeing how you perform under pressure."

"It's how I was made," Seto hissed. "You taught me well."

"I can only hope," Yutou tossed back at him with a dismissive flutter of his hand.

Seto pushed himself to his feet with some difficulty, fighting to regain control over his body, which insisted on shivering and just generally being weak. Kaiba, not Seto. Kaiba, not Seto. Cold, ruthless, cruel. He forced himself to stand straight, as regally as he could manage, and wiped the fear-sweat from his face with a linen handkerchief. "Yutou," he said, once the man was halfway down the hall. Yutou stopped, although he didn't turn around. "Who raped you?"

It might have been his imagination, but he could have sworn he saw Yutou flinch, heard his breath hitch in his chest. Whatever nerve he's struck, whatever reaction he'd evoked, it was gone as quickly as it had come. "Don't be ridiculous, little dragon," Yutou said stiffly. "No one raped me."

And then he was gone, almost as if he wanted to get away from Kaiba as quickly as possible. Kaiba smiled wryly, folding his arms over his chest. Score one for him. He was right, he knew it. After all, Yutou hadn't been born a rapist. It only made sense.

And God only knew how little it would take to break him down completely.

"Kaiba-san? You're on." Nanashi poked her head out of the conference room, grinning at him. He stared cooly back and straightened his tie, taking a deep breath and exhaling. Nanashi pinched him as he passed her, and she received a withering glare. "Jonouchi-san's here," she whispered. "Good luck."

"Thank you," Kaiba replied in a tone that managed to be incredibly rude and barely respectful at the same time. Oh yes, Kaiba was back, just as callous as ever, and ready to take on the reporters. He was going to tear them apart.

(A/N: No, Kaiba and Seto aren't two different personalities, they're just two facets of Seto. He thinks of himself as Seto when he's being all sweet and sensitive, or angsty and scared…basically Seto's the feeling side of him. Kaiba's the businessman, cold and unfeeling, and the reason I switched to calling him Kaiba in the end was that I wanted to express how he shut himself down for the conference. Meh, it makes more sense in my head. )

(A/N: And yeah, Yutou's screwed up. I'm just trying to offer a reason why he's screwed up, since people aren't born _that_ insane.)


	19. Missing

(waves) Koniichiwa, minna-san! I'm sorry this has taken so long...I'm dragging 'cause I'm nearing the end, and I don't want this story to end! I'm hoping and praying for a sequal, but...TT I don't know yet!

Ano...I don't have time (sotry of my life!!) to write review responses, and I should be happy about that because I'm getting SO MANY, but I really, really do want to talk to each of you! (cries) I love you guys! Thank you so much!

Er...yeah, I'm done. Read. (points) Now.

Chapter Nineteen

Yutou made it out of Kaiba's line of sight before he collapsed. Of course he wasn't upset by what Kaiba had said. Not at all. It was just…well…he wasn't exactly sure what was wrong, but he was shaking and he was, dare he say it, _scared. _He thought he'd gotten over this a long time ago, why would he have a breakdown now? It didn't make any sense. It had to be something else. He wasn't afraid.

But he was trembling, gripping the carpet with whitened fingers, his teeth clenched so tightly that his jaw ached, and his heart was racing. How could Kaiba have known? Sure, he was a genius, sure he was a child prodigy, but how could he be so perceptive of other people's problems? It was exactly the opposite of what Yutou had been trying to teach him, that same sympathy that Yutou had tried to beat out of him. And yet…he persisted, seemingly unconsciously, which led Yutou to think that maybe Kaiba was more than his fears. Maybe there was something, an inherent sense of self that even abuse and—God, it wrenched at him to even think it, but it was what it was—_rape_ couldn't crush.

Had…had he failed?

His arms were trembling too badly to support him and they buckled, leaving him curled in a heap on the carpet, breathing heavily and staring at nothing. He couldn't have failed. He _couldn't_. Kamimura Yutou didn't _fail._ It wasn't possible. Failure wasn't acceptable, he wasn't allowed to…

Maybe…maybe he hadn't. There had been no sympathy in Kaiba's voice, no mercy in his caustic words and biting glare. There had been nothing, no emotion at all. He hadn't said it to protect himself, hadn't said it for any reason other than to…to hurt him. He knew, he knew it would screw him up, knew that the mere mention, even after so long would be enough to send him into a panic. He liked it, Yutou had seen the predatory smile and the aggressive set of his body. He loved the power, the control, and maybe Yutou had gone about this wrong? He hadn't failed, but neither had he succeeded. Kaiba wasn't broken, wasn't completely heartless, but there didn't seem to be enough humanity left in him for him to carry on a normal life. He'd developed a talent, a cruel, awful talent, one that allowed him to rip people apart and throw their traumas back at them.

Oh, he hadn't meant to make the boy like him! He didn't want him to pick up his malicious comments and spiteful jokes, he didn't want him to enjoy making people cringe. He didn't want Kaiba to grow up, to do to someone else what had been done to him. He just wanted someone to listen to him, someone to obey him without question, someone…

…no, he couldn't lie to himself. Not anymore.

He wanted someone there. Someone who became so addicted, so dependent on him that they couldn't carry on without him. He wanted someone who needed him. He hadn't done it for Kaiba. He hadn't been trying to protect him from himself, no matter what he told himself in his inner monologues. It had been entirely selfish, entirely driven by a need to…maybe…be loved.

"_Yutou, who raped you?"_

Yutou shuddered. He'd never let anything slip. He'd always left Kaiba's presence before he had an attack, he'd never been anything but cold around him. He'd been perfect, he'd been untouchable, and Kaiba had still picked up on it. Somehow, Kaiba had seen past his defenses, seen enough to…to know what had happened to him.

"_Who raped you?"_

"_Don't touch him. Damn it woman, let him take care of himself!" A harsh blow to the back of his head and six-year-old Yutou fell to the ground, eyes brimming with tears. His mother scooped him up in her arms and held him to her breast, shushing him, telling him it was going to be alright, don't cry, you'll just make him madder… _

"_C'mere brat. On your knees." Yutou whimpered and shook his head. He didn't want to, he didn't like this, he knew what they wanted him to do…all he wanted was to go to bed, to fall asleep and forget all this. He'd only asked for some bread, he'd been so hungry…_

"_Don't cry. I'm not hurting you. I said stop it!" He couldn't, he couldn't make himself stop, the tears continued coursing down his cheeks and he gave a raspy sob, barely able to breathe as rough arms slid around him, tightening around his tiny waist, bruising pale skin as he wailed and begged and cried for Mommy, but Mommy was watching him with mad, blank eyes, it was too much for her, too much to see what was happening to her little boy…_

Yutou caught himself mid-whimper and bit down on his own wrist, hard enough to jerk himself out of the memories, hard enough to taste blood. No, he was past this! It was over! It had been over…what…twenty years ago? No, less. He'd been…nineteen. Yes, nineteen. Sixteen years should have been enough for the memories to fade. The nightmares had stopped, the attacks had stopped, he'd even stopped taking his medication and he'd been fine.

He was still fine.

Curled up on the floor, clutching himself so tightly that he bruised his own shoulders, Yutou shivered and cried, but he was alright. He was always alright. The tears weren't his, the pained gasps weren't his. It wasn't him lying there, because there was nothing wrong with him.

"Daddy_…_"

Oh, and that little confession couldn't have been his…could it?

oooooooOOOOOOOOOooooooo

"I know you've come here expecting answer as to why these pictures of me have appeared." Seto was in his typical speech-giving mode, (even though he was over an hour late, he seemed completely unapologetic) palms flat on his podium, leaning forward so the press got the full effect of his furious blue eyes. Jou normally would have been amused by the number of rookies who quailed away from him, but he was busy watching Seto.

He didn't look good. He was pale, more so that usual, and his eyes had a rather lackluster quality to them. His voice was sure and steady, but he clearly wasn't enjoying terrifying these reporters nearly as much as he normally did. _Maybe he's just nervous_, Jou told himself firmly. _He's gotta be embarrassed by all this shit._

"I regret to inform you that these photographs are not a hoax." If he noticed the excited mumbling of the crowd, he didn't make any indication of it; he steeled himself and continued. "The story I am about to tell you is nearly unbelievable, however I assure you that it is the truth. At this stage, I cannot afford to lie to you."

Flashbulbs went off and Seto drew a great, shuddering breath, visibly composing himself on the large video screens situated about the conference room. This was it, no turning back now. "The pictures come from a collection comprised by my late stepfather, Kaiba Gozaborou and several of his associates, primarily Kamimura Yutou. I was trained by Kamimura-san from the time I was adopted, under my stepfather's orders. He began beating me when I was twelve, and raping me when I reached age fourteen.

"In no way were these photographs taken willingly; I had no intention of cooperating with Kaiba-san's games. However, being ten years old rather limits one's methods of escape. I will now take questions, if any of you care to ask." His glare clearly said he was nearly ready to tear apart anyone who dared raise their hand, but the reporters were so excited by this new turn of events that they (literally) risked their lives for the story.

"Kaiba-san! Kaiba-san!" Kaiba nodded at the comely young woman who had spoken and she stood, adjusting her stylish glasses. "Do you have any evidence of your outrageous claims against Kamimura Yutou-san?"

Seto flinched and Jou's face clouded. They didn't believe him? Couldn't they see how hard this was for him? Fuckin' idiots, he _hated_ the media! They were ruinin' Seto's life, and not one of them seemed even slightly remorseful, slightly sympathetic about a fourteen-year-old boy being raped and abused for so long, they were just excited about getting such a fantastic story on the normally-withdrawn Kaiba…it made Jou sick.

"You don't believe me?" Seto said softly into the microphone. "You think I'd make all this up?"

The woman seemed taken aback. "Ah…well, no, but…"

Seto jerked off his jacket and hurled it to the floor, fingers busily undoing his shirt buttons. He pulled the silk off of his shoulders and pushed down the waistband of his pants, exposing an angry pink scar. "Is this enough proof for you?" Seto hissed, still in that deadly-calm voice.

The cameras zoomed in on Seto's navel, blurring and refocusing as the crowd stared at the video screens in fascinated horror. "I think you'll recognize this character as your anonymous photographer's calling card."

Jou blanched. He'd had surgery, there was no way…no way at all he would have _left_ that there…would he? He surely didn't want such an obvious reminder…maybe…

Well, it should have been gone and it wasn't, because there it was, right above the fine line of hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his dress pants, a good-sized scrawl of the character for 'whore.' It was undoubtedly the same handwriting as the 'calling card' as Seto had termed it, and if that wasn't enough the video screens started scrolling a slide show of Seto's recent hospital visit—even the pictures taken before Seto had seen the doctors. Even Jou hadn't seen these and he stared, shaking with fury as he saw Seto, pale and crying, curled up and clutching a blanket around himself, trying desperately to hide the wounds that covered his entire body.

"I trust this is sufficient proof."

The reporter had gone white, completely and utterly colourless, eyes wide with shock. Seto had shaken them, the excited whispers had died down completely, leaving behind startled silence. "Y-yes, Kaiba-san, I-I apologize—" She sat down and stared at her shoes, the notebook clutched in her hand completely forgotten in the face of what she had just seen.

"Kamimura-san recently took me back, after threatening harm to my little brother and my friends if I did not comply with his wishes. I had little choice in the matter." He waved at the screens with a trembling hand. "You can clearly see what happens when I displease Kamimura-san."

"He's never harmed your brother, has he?" The reporter's tones were much more polite now, a sort of shocked reverence, as if even they sensed they trod on sensitive ground. The last question seemed almost concerned, as if they really did care about Mokuba's well-being.

"No. He has never managed to get his hands on my brother. I did all I could to prevent that from happening."

"Oi, Jou." Someone tugged on his sleeve and Jou turned towards the whispering voice. "Come out in the hall. I need to talk to you."

"Marik?" Jou hissed as he got up and followed the blonde Egyptian. "I thought you an' Malik were visiting Rashid in Osaka."

"We—we changed our plans." Marik shuffled his feet nervously, eyes darting about, and Jou realized that something was very, very wrong. Marik was quiet, scared almost, and he'd never met anyone Marik was afraid of. Marik had always been…near inhuman about his utter lack of fear, taking everything that had ever been thrown at him with a sarcastic grin and an impolite gesture. He couldn't imagine what could have happened to upset the Egyptian unless…

"Marik…where's Malik?"

Marik's grip on his elbow tightened, his mouth pressing into a firm, angry line that Jou didn't like at all. "He's in trouble, Jou. Will you help me?" He turned his lavender eyes on Jou and he realized for the first time how much the two must have cared for each other. They were always squabbling, fighting about the stupidest things, and Marik slept on the couch more often than in Malik's bed, or so Jou had heard. They'd gotten into several fights, fights that Jou and Honda had had to stop before they killed each other, and so, well, it had never really seemed that the two had the same sort of relationship that the other hikaris and yamis did.

But now, gazing into those pain-wracked eyes, there was no doubt about it. Marik loved his hikari, loved him more than life itself, and he was worried about him. His hand clenched convulsively as Jou reached out for him and he stiffened as the shorter teen engulfed him in an embrace. "Of course I'll help," Jou said. "Tell me what's wrong."

Marik gave him a tearful, grateful smile. "Come with me."

oooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooo

For someone that had lost his hikari, Marik seemed to know where he was going. He steered Jou through the halls quickly, his grip nearly bruising Jou's skin, speeding them along as if he was in a hurry to get somewhere. Jou chalked it up to worry and peppered him with questions, all of which Marik ignored or brushed off.

They stopped, finally, in front of a door and Marik's shoulder slumped helplessly. His head dropped, almost in shame and Jou's eyebrows knit together. "I…I'm sorry," Marik whispered huskily, sounding as if he were in the verge of tears. "You have to believe me, I didn't want to do this. I don't want to see you hurt, Jonouchi. You're my friend, you know that? I trust you."

"What're you talkin' about, Marik?" Jou backed up a few steps when Marik's hands shot out, grabbing him by the shoulders, trapping him. "Marik, what's goin' on? Let me go!" Tanned fingers dug into his shoulders, hard, and he cried out in pain. "You're hurtin' me! Stoppit!"

Marik opened the door and shoved Jou in ahead of him, catching the smaller blonde off-balance and knocking him to the floor. Jou struggled to push himself up, but Marik had planted his boot between his shoulder blades, and Jou's nose was pressed to the carpet. "I brought him, like you asked."

"Good." Jou froze; he knew that voice. He knew it and he hoped to _God_ that Marik wasn't behind this, because even an insane tomb keeper knew to keep away from psychos like Yutou. "Let him up, my friend, he can't breathe." The foot moved and Jou gasped for air, barely daring to look up. Yutou was sitting in a plush armchair, legs crossed primly, leaning his chin on his hands.

"I'm not your friend," Marik growled from behind him. "Give me back my hikari."

Yutou smiled, an eerie, predatory smile. "Of course." He kicked something out from underneath his chair and it rolled toward Jou, stopping just in front of his nose. "He struggled a bit, I hope you don't mind the bruises."

It was Malik, unconscious and tied up, a scarf serving as a gag, stained with blood where it had torn into the corners of the hikari's mouth. His shirt was ripped down the center, his torso covered with the beginnings of some magnificent bruises, and his knees were bloody, presumably where Yutou had shoved him to the ground. The rope was tied too tightly around his wrists and crimson had welled up around his bonds, mottling the fibers. Marik gave a cry and leapt at his hikari, gathering the battered body to his chest. "Malik!"

"Tch. Stop whining. He's fine."

"Marik…what…did you…" Jou was at a loss for words.

Marik staggered to his feet, clutched Malik's body desperately, burying his face in blood-soaked hair. "I'm sorry, Jou. He kidnapped Malik, and he wanted me to bring you to him…I never meant for you to get hurt, but he was going to kill my hikari!" A sound almost like a muffled sob wrenched itself from the yami's throat. "He had a note delivered to me, a note written in Malik's blood…I was so scared…so scared Malik was dead, I didn't have any other choice…he promised he'd give Malik back…" Marik shuddered and glanced over at Jou. "I'm sorry."

Jou tried to manage a smile as he picked himself up off of the floor and dusted himself off. " 'Sokay. He didn't give you another option. I'll be fine."

"Get out of here," Yutou snapped, obviously bored by the touching exchange. "And I swear to God, if you so much as _hint_ where Jonouchi's gone..." he trailed off, leaving an unspoken threat to hang in the air. Marik glanced at Jou, who nodded reassuringly and waved him away.

"I'll be alright."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Yutou said smugly as the door clicked shut. "You're in more danger than you've ever been in."

Jou whirled on Yutou, completely ignoring what he'd said, clenching his fists. "Why Malik?" he growled. "Why drag someone else into this? He didn't do anything; you could have killed him!"

"Ah, but I didn't." Yutou examined his perfectly-manicured nails for nonexistent dirt. "It would have been a shame to crush such…fiery spirit. And he was quite attractive." He shot Jou a look from half-lidded eyes, coupled with a hint of a smirk. "Don't you think? A waste of beauty."

Jou's stomach dropped. "Tell me you didn'," he snarled. "Tell me you didn' touch Malik. Not like that. Tell me you didn' hurt someone else!"

"Hn," Yutou said noncommittally. "I'd hate to lie to you, Jonouchi. However, he made the unfortunate mistake of breaking down and sobbing when I did. I hate weakness. I didn't intend to hurt him, you must believe that. I simply wanted to amuse myself with him until you showed up, but apparently his father had claimed that territory long before I, or even his pretty little lover, got there." Jou had known that the elder Ishtar had been somewhat depraved, and had routinely taken out his frustrations on his son. Malik had been molested as a very young child, and the scars remained with him to this day, although Marik had been able to intervene before it was taken any further. Jou knew all that already, but what caught his attention was the fierce glint in Yutou's normally dispassionate eyes. Was it Jou's imagination, or was there a trace of anger in Yutou's voice?

"What do you want with me? Seto's fixing what you did, there's nothing you can do to us anymore."

"I can do anything I want to you." Yutou didn't stand so much as unfold himself from the chair and slunk across the room, eyeing Jou in a way that made him feel rather like a piece of meat being dangled before a hungry wolf. Yutou smiled and took his chin in hand, forcing his head up so they stared into each other's eyes, neither one backing down. Jou crossed his arms stubbornly across his chest, meeting Yutou glare for glare, as rebellious and challenging as he could manage. "You're coming with me."

"I don' think so."

Yutou arched an eyebrow at him and drew from an inside coat pocket a slim cell phone. He flipped it open, studying the screen, fingers hovering over the keypad. "One call from me and three sniper's bullets find their way into Kaiba-kun's chest." He smirked at Jou. "I _know_ you don't want that."

Jou staggered back, breath catching, horror settling in his stomach. "You're not serious. Seto's security—"

"I ran this place for years, Jonouchi. I know my way around here, I know every camera's blind spot, every door's override code. If you honestly think I wouldn't be able to sneak in a couple of snipers—isn't your lover's life quite a bit to gamble with? Are you willing to take that risk?"

Was he? Could he possibly call Yutou's bluff at the price of Seto's life? And then…was Yutou even bluffing? God, what was he supposed to do now? Jou continued to back away, shaking his head numbly, refusing to believe he was being faced with this choice. It was impossible, he couldn't do this, _shouldn't_ do this, it wasn't fair…"What…what do you want with me?" He clutched at the hem of his shirt, just to have something to hold onto, something to keep him grounded, focused. "Not—I mean, what you did t' Seto—" He couldn't survive that, he knew he couldn't. He'd seen what Seto had become, how cold and detached he'd had to be, just to survive, and Jou knew that living like that would kill him.

"What I will do with you is my decision and mine alone. I'm in control here, not you."

"Why? Don't we deserve the chance to be happy?" Frightened amber eyes pleaded with him, begged him to let them go, let them live in peace. Yutou couldn't do that, not while he was alive. Kaiba was the only thing that kept him sane, he realized that now. Without someone to tear apart, everything came rushing back, paralyzing him, crippling him. He was strong, he had to be; he'd paid for the right to govern himself. Human rights were nothing to him…what had the others given in exchange for those freedoms? He had fought and sacrificed everything he had, everything he was: his childhood, his happiness, his sanity…everything he could give. He owed humanity nothing.

He owed Jonouchi nothing.

"Why? What have you done to deserve happiness?"

Jonouchi blinked at him. "Deserve? Yutou, since when d'we have to _deserve_ it?" Yutou's face tightened in a snarl until he caught sight of Jonouchi's eyes and the sweet, guileless innocence behind them. Jonouchi wasn't mocking him, he truly believed that everyone had the right to be happy. He thought _he_ deserved peace.

"Idiot," Yutou growled, tipping his head forward so his hair covered his eyes. "Nothing comes for free. If you haven't sacrificed for something, it's astonishing how easily it can be taken away."

"What're you talkin' about?"

"What have you forgone for him?"

"For who?"

"Kaiba."

Jou's hand shot out in a flash of rage, coupled with a furious roar and connected solidly with Yutou's stomach. "How dare you! How _dare_ you insinuate you've sacrificed _anything_ for him!"

Jou wasn't a weakling, he knew that. He'd been fighting since he was a child, been one of the most feared students at every school he'd gone to (until he'd met Yuugi, of course—that boy had a way of mellowing anyone out). He could have very well broken a few ribs, damaged some internal organs, but Yutou gave no sign that he had even felt Jou's blow, much less been harmed by it. He merely smiled, a sick, insane grin that repulsed Jou so much he shoved the elder man hastily away. "You—what _are_ you?" He hadn't even felt that punch, hadn't even cared—

"I? Nothing and everything, little one." He grabbed a fistful of Jou's hair and jerked it sharply.

"Ahhn!" Jou yelped, trying best he could to wrest his head from Yutou's grasp. The elder man's fingers held, s veritable steel trap and try as he might, Jou could not free himself. It hurt, hurt so much that Jou was forced to stand on tiptoe, so Yutou wouldn't jerk out the handful of hair by the roots. Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes and he gritted his teeth. "Lemme go…what d'you think you're doin'?" Yutou pulled a little harder and Jou whimpered, screwing his eyes shut against the pain.

"Ch," Yutou snorted, flinging Jou back with a calm flick of the wrist. Jou staggered, trying to keep his balance, and clutched his burning scalp. Something warm and wet trickled down his face and Jou wiped it away irritably. He glanced down to find the back of his hand smeared with a wide swath of blood, and this did nothing to improve his temper.

"That hurt."

"It's supposed to, puppy."

Jou growled and swung another punch at Yutou. "Don' call me that!"

Yutou caught his fist easily, bending his wrist until it was in danger of breaking. Jou could actually _feel_ the bone straining against the pressure and he held out as long as he could, willing himself not to react, to ignore the steadily-building agony until Yutou gave one final, vicious twist and Jou fell to his knees with a scream.

Broken. It was broken, he knew that already. Jou cradled his wounded arm to his chest, sobbing and wishing he'd never thrown that punch, waiting hopefully for the pain to ebb, just a little, because he didn't think he could stand it, the white-hot lances stinging every nerve, ripping through tendon and muscle until he was sure he could even feel the ache in the bone. "Son of a bitch," he panted heavily, tongue thick in his mouth. "Complete…son...of…a…_bitch._"

Yutou simply gazed down at him with that same cold stare, ten times worse than Kaiba's had ever been, because he wasn't even angry. He hadn't done it with malice, fury, anything. He had done it simply to teach Jou a lesson, and if Jou had to suffer in order to learn…well, it was fine by him. "Am I?" He planted his foot firmly between Jou's hunched shoulders and pushed down, driving the boy to the ground and crushing his broken wrist between carpet and his own breastbone.

"H—haaah!"

"That's it, pretty. Scream for me." He pushed harder and Jou fairly howled, jerking and twisting trying to get away. "It's no use, you're not going anywhere."

"Ahh! Yutou—oh God, stoppit! It hurts! Please!"

Yutou jerked back, horror evident on his face—

"_Stoppit! It hurts!" A pitiful scream tore through the air as small fingernails clutched at his back, desperately scrabbling at his skin. "Oh God, Yutou, please! AHHH!" The tiny body arched, frozen, eyes wide and staring blankly at the ceiling as Seto struggled to make himself breathe again. When he managed it came in hitched sobs, broken cries that wracked his small frame._

_Yutou sneered and carried on, driving, thrusting, raping and destroying without any thoughts as to exactly _who_ he was fucking. It hadn't been part of the plan. Hell, if Gozaborou walked in now, he'd probably break Yutou's neck. But Yutou had to know, had to understand what it felt like to be in control, to completely dominate someone so small and helpless._

_He needed to know why his father had done it._

_See, it didn't make any sense to him why a full-grown man would want the body of a small boy so badly. Yutou wasn't entirely sure he'd been the most attractive child, and…his own _father_…He grunted in response to Seto's frantic pleas, savouring the way the firm, hot little body curled around his, the pathetic whimpers, the tears, the agonized writhing…oh yes, he liked this, he liked this, he _understood

"_God, Seto…you're so…fucking…tight…"_

_Seto gave a small, needy mewl as Yutou hit something inside him, something that made him jerk his hips and buck upwards. "Don't—call—me—that," he gasped in between whimpers. "Please…please don't…"_

"Bastard," Jou sobbed, clutching his arm. "Bastard! Let me go!"

"Ohh, no," Yutou said, brushing aside the memories and grabbing a handful of Jou's hair. "If you want Seto to live, you're coming with me."

ooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooo

"Kaiba, uh…I just wanted to say you did a good job." Yuugi extended his hand to Seto, grinning brightly, if somewhat abashedly. "Maybe you can clear all this up now, ne? I'd like to see you smile more."

Seto took Yuugi's hand and shook it warmly, the barest hint of a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. It wasn't much, but Yuugi appreciated the sentiment and he giggled. Kaiba had never been so…so nice. "Like that!"

"Thank you for coming," Seto said politely, glancing around at all of them in turn. "I…appreciate having you here."

Honda stared at Seto and wondered how Jou had managed to change him so much in such a short timespan. Kaiba (a few months ago) would have sneered and jerked his hand away from Yuugi, completely ignoring how the shorter man's face would fall and how Yami would wind a comforting arm around his hikari's shoulders, assuring him that Kaiba was just being Kaiba. But now…he was cordial, almost human. It was astounding, really. But that was Jonouchi, that was the way he was, what he did. No one could stay depressed around him very long; he was so cheerful, so…radiant.

"Where's Jonouchi?"

"What?" Yuugi looked confused. "I thought he was with you. He left halfway through your speech, I assumed he'd be waiting for you or something. I think the pictures freaked him out."

Seto's eyes hardened. "I saw him leave with Marik. Now where the fuck has he gone?" Any traces of kindness were gone and he hauled Yuugi up by his shirtfront as if perhaps Yuugi was hiding Jonouchi somewhere in his clothes. Yuugi whimpered and closed his eyes and Bakura held Yami to keep him from, as Yami put it, 'Mind Crushing his ass back to Ancient Egypt.' "Tell me where he is!" He shook Yuugi slightly, enough to elicit a warning growl and a futile struggle from Yami.

Honda grabbed Seto by the shoulders and the CEO whirled on him, baring his teeth. "Hey man, calm down. Yuugi didn't do anything with Jou, he's gotta be around here somewhere."

Something flashed in Seto's eyes that Honda had never seen before—he was worried, truly worried about Jonouchi. He hadn't been this distraught even when Mokuba was kidnapped (all seventeen times) and…well…what did that mean? "Kaiba…"

"Save it, Honda. I don't want your pity. Help me find him."

That was the closest he was going to get to an apology, Honda supposed. And Seto had asked for help! Kind of…

"If you're gonna be such a bastard about it…" Honda turned, as if he were about to leave and Seto's arm shot out, desperately catching him by the sleeve.

"Please," Seto intoned hoarsely, head bowed. "Please. Don't do it for me, do it for him. I…I don't want anything to happen to him." His grip tightened and Honda heard a slight catch in his voice, as if the CEO were on the verge of tears. It caught him off-guard until he thought about it—Seto _had_ had a trying day (for a normal person), and from what Honda had heard, Seto wasn't nearly as untouchable as he seemed. It had to have been hard on him, confessing something he'd been trying to run from, trying to hide…for the first time, something akin to sympathy settled in Honda's heart, and it was for Kaiba, of all people.

Seto mistook his thoughtful silence for cold refusal, perhaps, and he turned to the rest of them, hands outstretched, eyes pleading. "Please…please, I'll do anything you want…just name it…" He was shaking, shivering as if he were cold, and he fell to his knees, hands flat on the ground, head hanging. "Please." It was scarcely a whisper.

"Hey," Ryou said gently, wrapping a comforting arm around Seto. "It's alright, Seto. We'll help you find him." Seto leaned into Ryou's shoulder, hiding his face in shame and the white-haired hikari held him, rocking back and forth slightly, puzzled by the sudden onslaught of panic. "Are you alright?"

Seto sniffled and shook his head. Bakura gave a sudden start and pulled his hikari back. "Get away from him."

Ryou glanced up in confusion at his yami who was shielding him with his own body, icy eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Yami? What's—"

"Shut up," Bakura snapped, harsh without entirely meaning it. "You're not Seto, are you?"

Seto continued staring down at the carpet, hands clasped tightly, legs spread out before him in an eerily childlike manner. His back was slumped, his hair falling in front of his eyes, and he radiated…_wrongness_, at least to Bakura. He cast a glance at the Pharaoh and noticed that he, too, had wound his hikari in a protective embrace, glaring at the pathetic little figure on the ground.

"No," it whispered. "I'm not Seto."

"Who…?" Bakura couldn't think of anything better; the Pharaoh had always been more articulate than him. He was more inclined to attack first, ask questions later, but he sensed that Ryou would be more than upset with him for killing a friend of his without any solid reason why. It wasn't that this new presence seemed particularly dangerous, or even malicious at all, but…it wasn't Kaiba, not even slightly.

"Seto-chan?" Ryou pulled away from his yami and took a cautious step towards him. He held his pale, delicate hands in front of him, a gesture of peace, hoping to ease little Seto's mind. "Seto-chan, my name is Ryou. I'm a friend of mou hitori no Seto. I won't hurt you."

"Ryou, what the hell—"

"Shh, Bakura," Ryou hissed and the yami blinked. Ryou never ordered him around; whatever was going on must have freaked him out pretty badly. "Jonouchi told me about this. He's another personality of Seto's."

"Another…?"

"Yes. He's got the mental age of about a ten-year-old."

"The age Seto was when he was adopted," Yuugi interjected, a look of dawning comprehension on his face. "The age the abuse started."

"Yes," Ryou said, still edging towards Seto. "He doesn't have any idea who any of us are, so please—" here he shot his yami a pointed Look "—don't frighten him. He's very scared and he might hurt someone."

"But…if he's ten…" Honda began.

"He's in a twenty-three year old body. Seto's body," Ryou replied calmly. "He doesn't have any idea how strong he is. Just don't—make—any—sudden—movements." Ryou knelt down in front of Seto and he shied away, arms flying up to protect his face.

"Nnn…" he whimpered. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean for anything bad to happen!"

"It's okay, Seto-chan." Ryou touched his shoulder lightly and he kept his hand there, even when he flinched away.

"Don't call me that! I'm not Seto! Master…Master loves Seto, and I'm not…I'm not him…" he gave a sob and twisted out of Ryou's gentle grasp. "I'm not…he hates me…don't call me that…"

"What would you like us to call you?"

"Just…not Seto…he hated that I wasn't Seto…" he looked up at Ryou, blue eyes glimmering with unshed tears and he twisted a fistful of Ryou's sleeve as if it were his last tie to life. "Seto hates him, you know, and I—I can't _be_ him…oh _God_…I want to, but I…"

"Shh," Ryou said, stroking his hair gently. "I won't call you Seto. It's okay, don't cry." Ryou pulled him into his lap and held him like a baby, close to his chest; he'd heard that a heartbeat calmed distraught children, and maybe the same would hold true in this case. "Koto. How's that?"

"What?"

"I'll call you Koto. Do you like that?" He was met with complete silence, and had he not been able to feel him breathing, Ryou might have thought the man in his arms had suddenly died. "I guess not. Sorry, I just thought—"

"N-no, I like it. No one's…ever given me a name before." He snuggled into Ryou's shoulder contentedly and the white-haired hikari could almost feel him smiling. "Koto. Ko-to." He nodded. "I like it. Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me, Koto-kun," Ryou assured him with a smile. "You don't have to thank me."

(A/N: Yeah, it's taking less and less to trigger the change from Seto to Koto now, anyone else noticed that? It's because of all the stress; Seto can't push everything away, not with it being shoved down his throat and all, so his ability to remain in control, his willingness to exist seems to be fading. And sorry if you don't like the Koto thing, but it's too hard to not give him another name. And yes, I'm fully aware that most alternate personalities name themselves, but Koto's so servile and childlike that I figured he'd wait for someone else to do it for him.)

Ja ne, minna-san!


	20. Clash

Chapter Twenty

AUGH! I got fanart! For the first time in my life, someone likes me enough to send me FANART! (glomps Rosalyn Angel) She sent me these sketches of Yutou and it made me so happy! I printed 'em out and stuck 'em up on my door. If anyone else loves me enough to draw fanart…I'll love you forever! Forever and ever!

Sooo...yeah. Happy Superbowl! (snorts) I hate football.

Bakura tried not to be jealous, he really did. But Ryou was happiest when he was taking care of someone, strange as that seemed. And, he had to admit, this…this _Koto_ creature seemed far more feeble than even Yuugi in his younger days. He was afraid of everyone, of everything, Bakura included, which was why the tomb robber was trailing dismally after his lover rather than walking next to him. And it didn't help that every time the white-haired yami so much as glanced at him, Koto would squeak and duck his head, trying to hide his face in Ryou's shoulder, (which would have been amusing, since Koto was so much taller than Ryou) and Ryou would give his yami a sharp, reprimanding glare and a warning "not to scare Koto-chan."

"Damn it," Bakura hissed under his breath as they walked down the hallway. Yami gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and he, in true Bakura-esque fashion, jerked away, muttering "Ch. Idiot pharaoh."

"He's only trying to help. He's not mad at you, Bakura."

Bakura glared at Yami. "I know that." But his eyes strayed to where Ryou was walking hand-in-hand with Koto, who was softly talking to him, telling him a story and the look on Ryou's face was so enraptured, so entranced that Bakura clenched his fists in his pockets, growling without actually meaning to. "I mean, I'm his lover, right? This Koto thing is just a ten-year-old kid. There's no way Ryou actually—"

"Shame on you, Bakura," Yuugi said, eyes unusually sharp. "You know Ryou loves you. He's just a naturally selfless person."

"Yeah, yeah. I didn't ask for your opinion, pipsqueak." Translation: "Yes, I know. Thank you for your concern."

"He wants to help. That's all."

"Hey, minna-san!" Ryou waved at him from the end of the hallway, gesturing to a very innocent-looking door that matched every other one they'd passed. "This is the security room!"

oooooooooOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooooo

"Feeling alright, pretty?"

Jou snapped at him, catching the very tips of Yutou's fingers between his teeth and biting down hard. Yutou made no move, simply stood there and let Jou gnaw at his hand until the blonde jerked his head away, feeling distinctly animal-like and rather ashamed. It was insane; Yutou had this presence, this way about him that made him seem so cool, so controlled, and it made Jou distinctly uncomfortable. "No."

"Why must you fight?" Yutou sounded sad almost, wistful, apologetic. "I truly don't want to hurt you. If you had just stayed away, if you'd left Kaiba alone, you wouldn't be in this mess. You'd both be better off."

" 'Scuse me if I don' think Seto bein' raped an' beaten' ev'ry night is 'better off!' Do you even care 'bout what you did t' him?"

"Care, yes. Regret, no. It was necessary."

"Bull," Jou snapped. "He was fourteen, Yutou! He was a kid! You ruined his life!"

"SHUT UP!" Yutou backhanded Jou across the face as hard as he could possibly manage and Jou yelped as the heavy signet ring split his lip. "I saved him! I did everything for him! His father…I didn't want his father to touch him!"

"So you did it for him?" Jou yelled, straining at the ropes that bound him to the bed, favouring his badly broken and now frighteningly swollen wrist. "Gozaborou couldn' a' been worse than you! Seto hates you! He's terrified of you! He has panic attacks if anyone so much as mentions you, he can' sleep, can' function. His mind created an alternate personality jus' so he could deal wit' what you did t' him! _You_ did that, Kamimura! Not 'cause you care about him, not 'cause you love him! You're a perverted bastard an' you ruined a child's life!" His pretty face twisted in a fierce snarl and he was so caught up in his tirade he didn't notice Yutou pale, didn't care that the man staggered back as if Jou had hit him.

"_You ruined my life!"_

"_I didn't! I saved you!" Rough arms grabbed him from behind, a hot mouth closed on his ear and those hands, those awful, disgusting hands were sliding past the waistband of his jeans, touching him, fondling him, and it was all he could do not to freeze like he had done so many times before. Instead he shoved the owner of those hands away, fury boiling in his veins, fury that threatened to consume him where he stood, eat him alive and leave nothing but an empty shell fueled by rage and the silver-sharp edge of madness. _

"_Liar."_

"_I'm the only one that loves you, Yutou. You know that." Open arms, a mockery of compassion and a sickeningly sympathetic smile, as if he knew Yutou was only playing, only being coy, and he was willing to. "I love you."_

"_Liar." It was barely a whisper, more a choked sob, because it went against everything he'd ever known, everything he'd ever learned—he as violating his very rules of survival, and there was no guarantee that he'd come out alive this time. He was scared, so scared, and he didn't want to do this, he wanted to curl up in a corner and hide his face until it was over…_

_Death, though, death would be better than this! Better than the suffering. God, he couldn't do this any more, couldn't numb the pain and hide it with a smile, all to protect someone he hated more than anything. He couldn't pretend everything was okay anymore; his grades were…well, slipping was too kind a word, they were crashing…he couldn't pay attention to anything, he was tired all the time, he ached every moment he was awake, and even when he slept the nightmares came to play with his rapidly-failing sanity. He wanted death, just so he could rest and not have to think, to act, to hurt…He'd tried it too, slit his wrists and let them bleed until his head fell back and he writhed in the ecstasy of agony as his life slipped away from him, but he couldn't even do _that_ right, he was so pathetic…_

"_I've always looked out for you. I've never let anyone touch you."_

"_You wanted me all to yourself."_

"_I love you."_

"_Stop it." And then he hands were back, sliding across his shoulders, easing his shirt off of him; this was the last time, the last time anyone would make the mistake of trying to control him._

_A slow, sick grin wound across Yutou's handsome features as, for the first time in his life, he reached out to embrace his father. The elder man stiffened, obviously surprised but he warmed to the touch quickly, stroking his son's hair with callused, rough fingers. Yutou rested his head on his father's shoulder, one hand clenching his shirt in a show of affection, the other slowly sliding the knife out of his side pocket._

_It wasn't much, only a small, half-dull blade he'd grabbed from the kitchen counter and hidden in his baggy jeans when he'd heard the door open. Oh, but it was enough. It would have to be enough. _

"_I love you, Daddy."_

_His father hadn't even seen it coming._

"This conversation is over." Yutou stalked out of the room, slamming the door so hard behind him that the walls trembled. Jou blinked; that had been somewhat unexpected. For a moment, just for a moment Yutou had looked so terrified, so frightened of whatever had been going on in his head at the time…he'd always been languorous, almost sleepy in his banter, almost as if Jou wasn't even worth getting worked up over. He'd always had that mocking, smirking expression on his face, but now…

His face had been a veritable mask, his eyes colder than ice and harder than steel. He'd been genuinely angry about something—the question was, what? He didn't seem to regret what he'd done to Seto, so Jou's comments couldn't have set him off _that_ badly…

Jou shook his head and wondered why he was spending so much time trying to work out the mind of a madman. He shrugged and began working at his bonds, slowly tugging them in an effort to free himself.

It was going to take a loooooong time.

oooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooo

"Yutou has him? Again? Damn, this guy doesn't give up, does he?" Honda ran a frustrated hand through his shaggy brown hair, pushing it out of his eyes. "Any clue where he is?" (Yes, Honda has shaggy hair now. Think Squall Leonheart. He's too vital a character to be ugly. O.O That wasn't _too_ shallow)

Otogi tapped delicately at the keyboard, green eyes narrowed in an uncharacteristically serious glare. Windows opened and closed at a rate so fast it made Mokuba's head spin, but Otogi seemed to know exactly what he was looking for. "It's a pity Seto—er, _Koto's_ in no condition to help me here—it'd go a lot faster if I had someone that knew the system."

Koto dropped his head. "I'm sorry."

"Eh?" Otogi glanced up from the screen. "Nah, don't worry about it," he said with a reassuring smile and a flip of his hand. "I may not be as smart as Seto, but I'm up there. I'll figure it out."

"Liar," Mokuba said affectionately, burying his face in Otogi's hair. "You're a genius and you know it." Otogi grinned and went back to the computer.

Mokuba watched Koto out of the corner of his eye, noting the nervous way he clenched Ryou's hand, the way he played with his hair, the uneasy glances he shot at everyone when he thought they weren't looking. He was so…not Seto. It was disturbing, to say the least, to see that guileless innocence on his elder brother's face, to watch those large, sad eyes shift away from his gaze. Seto had never been like that; he would have stared Mokuba down and demanded to know why he was watching him, not averted his face and blushed, like Koto did now.

Seto had never told him about Koto. He'd never told him about anything, not up until a few weeks ago, and Mokuba wasn't upset about that. He could appreciate his brother's embarrassment, humiliation at what had happened to him, and he wasn't at all angry that he'd been kept in the dark. It stung though, that even during his confession Seto had never once mentioned another personality, never!

Why…?

"Hey, I got it!" Mokuba's attention snapped back to his lover, who had pulled up a black-and-white video file, presumably from one of the security cameras. "This was taken…half an hour ago."

"_Shut up! Stop struggling!"_

Yutou had Jou thrown over his shoulder, arm wrapped around the backs of the blonde's thighs, and the younger man was pounding with one arm on Yutou's back, screaming obscenities. _"Lemme go! Get the hell offa me, you perv!"_

"_Don't think so, pretty."_ Yutou threw Jou to the ground quite abruptly and the blonde yelped, clutching at his arm. Was something wrong with it? He clutched it to his chest and winced, as if he were in pain. Yutou kicked him in the stomach and Jou collapsed, doubling over in an attempt to protect himself from the assault. _"You're mine now. I can do whatever I want with you."_

"_Like hell," _Jougasped_. "I don't belong to anyone, least of all a psycho like you!" _He staggered to his feet, still holding his injured arm close to his chest. _"I'll admit, I don' know a damn thing about you. I don' know why you are the way you are. But this isn' gonna help anything. Do you think Seto'll come runnin' back t' you if you kidnap me?"_

"_He loves you."_

"_He'll kill you."_

"_Possibly." _Yutou grabbed a fistful of hair and jerked Jou's head back. The blonde hissed in pain and spat in his face, wrenching his head away from Yutou's grasp. _"You talk too much. Pretty little dolls like you should be seen and not heard."_ And then, practically before Jou could even register that he'd moved, Yutou's hand had caught him hard across the temple and he sagged into Yutou's waiting arms. _"Much better."_ He looked straight at the camera then, his face twisting into a smile that left his eyes cold and challenging. _"You're it, Seto-kun. Come and get me."_

"That bastard," Yuugi snarled, and even Yami gave the little hikari a shocked look. "This is a game to him. He's playing with Jou, playing with Kaiba!" Yuugi tugged insistently at Koto's sleeve and the brunette shrunk back, as if he were afraid Yuugi was going to hit him. "Where does he live, Koto?"

"I don't know," Koto whimpered. "Why ask me?"

"You're in love with him," Yuugi snapped, snatching hold of Koto's tie and forcing Koto to his eye level. Yami made a move as if to pull Yuugi away, but the hikari glared at his lover, violet eyes fierce and furious. "Don't, Yami."

"Hikari—"

"Where is he?" Yuugi gave Koto a violent shake, all but baring his teeth. "I don't care if you're Kaiba, Koto, or George-fucking-_Washington_, you know where he's keeping my best friend and you're going to help us get him back!" Yami did pull Yuugi back this time and he didn't fight, simply continued glowering at Koto from his lover's embrace.

"I'm sorry," Koto whispered, bowing his head. "I never meant to involve angel in this." He scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand and Yuugi's eyes softened with sympathy; he could never stay mad very long, Yami knew. "I tried to fix it," he mumbled. "I told Master—I told him he had to leave. I told him it…it didn't matter if I loved him. It wasn't fair to mou hitori no boku. I tried to make everything alright." Blue eyes pleaded with Yuugi's apologetic purple ones. "I'm sorry about what happened to angel."

"It's alright," Ryou said, patting Koto's shoulder. "No one here blames you."

"Not so sure about that," Bakura said casually. "After all, you're the one that landed Kaiba in the hospital in the first place, aren't you? And if I had to hazard a guess as to who ran to Yutou in New York, I'd say it was you."

"Yami!" Ryou whirled on his lover. "You're not helping anything."

"Neither are you," Bakura snapped. "Coddling him like he'll break if you let him go. You're not doing him any good, letting him wallow in his own self-pity."

"Stop it," Ryou hissed. "It's not Koto's fault all of this happened."

"Then whose, hikari? If he really wants to make this right, let him fix something himself. Let him lead us to Yutou." Bakura crossed his arms over his chest. "You weren't afraid to be tough with me, hikari, why let this brat walk all over you?"

Ryou looked torn for a moment, glancing between Bakura and Koto. Bakura was right, he knew he was right, but some protective instinct in him wanted to save poor little Koto from himself, keep him from getting hurt. He sighed and shook his head finally, tucking his hands back into his pockets. "Bakura's right," he admitted. "You have to do this yourself, Koto-chan. You can't keep running away."

"I know." Koto buried his face in his hands. "I'll take you to him."

oooooooOOOOOOOOooooooooo

"Yutou!"

Yutou growled and turned the page of his book, scanning the words and not really understanding any of them. Oh, this kid was a pain in the _ass_, it had better be worth everything he was going through. Seto had never been this demanding, this damn _loud_. If he didn't shut up soon, Yutou was going to kill him, just to get some peace and quiet.

"Yutou!"

"Damn it!" Yutou snapped his book shut and hurled it to the floor. Oh yes, murder was looking better and better with every passing moment. "What the fuck do you want? I've already fed you, gotten you water, let you out to go to the bathroom, what else can you possibly need?" He was more work than a freakin' puppy, and at least puppies were cute and fuzzy. Jou was anything but.

"I'm bored!" Jou called cheerfully. "C'mere an' talk t' me!"

"AAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHHH!"

Jou grinned; this was fun. If Yutou had expected a whimpering, servile captive, he was going to be sadly disappointed. Jou fully intended to drive Yutou crazier than he already was, and damned if he didn't enjoy it! He was Jonouchi Katsuya, one of the most irritating forces in existence, and by the time he was done, Yutou would be begging him to leave.

To his surprise, however, Yutou opened the door and stepped inside. Jou cocked his head to the side and blinked—he'd expected to spend at least another ten minutes calling for him until the elder man actually complied, but here he was.

"What do you want?" Yutou snarled crankily. "I was trying to read."

"I told you," Jou pouted. "I'm bored." He wiggled in his bonds hopefully, giving the elder blonde as adorable of a look as he could muster. "An' my arm really hurts. How 'bout lettin' me go?"

Yutou stared at him for a moment as if he were considering it. Jou's arm _did_ look rather bad, he rationalized, and he didn't want to permanently damage the blonde. He heaved a sigh that was more like a growl, really, and began undoing the knots of Jou's restraints, careful not to accidentally jar the broken wrist. "I'm going to clean this up," he told him firmly (as if Jou would argue!). "I don't want it getting infected."

"Awfully nice of you," Jou said as he massaged the wrist tenderly, forcing the blood back into circulation. "An' here I had you pegged for a complete asshole."

Yutou gave him a quick, wry smile as he opened the first-aid kit. "You weren't far off, pretty." He drew out bandages and what could have been a splint and gestured for Jou to hold out his arm.

"Yeah, right," Jou said. "I'm not a complete moron."

"Only half," Yutou quipped with a rare humour. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Um, hello?" Jou waved at his broken arm. "I'm pretty sure you did this. Give me the bandages. I'll do it myself."

Yutou relinquished the first-aid kit with a helpless shrug. "Do what you want." He watched in some measure of amusement as Jou wrestled with the bandages before he pried them out of the younger man's grip. "This is getting nowhere. Calm down, I'm not going to do anything."

"Yeah," Jou said sardonically, watching Yutou bandage his arm nervously. "Because I have every reason t' believe a psychotic maniac who raped my lover and kidnapped me twice. Suuure." Yutou's fingers jerked on the bandage, and Jou knew something he'd said had hit home.

"I'm not a psychotic maniac," Yutou protested, but it was a pitiful, frantic protest, hardly more than a strangled whisper. He tied the bandage off firmly, tugging the ends a bit harder than was absolutely necessary, and Jou gasped as a shock of pain crawled up his arm, nipping at flesh and cutting deep into bone. Oh God, did it hurt. He whimpered and curled up, clutching the arm to his chest and trying as hard as he possibly could not to cry. He'd been in fights before, he'd broken bones before…this was nothing…nothing…

"Did I hurt you?" It took Jou a second to register, to realize that it was Yutou speaking to him feigning sympathy with that same damn smirk on his face—he knew now where Seto had learned it from. Soft fingers grazed his cheek and Jou cringed away. He didn't want those hands touching him, he didn't want Yutou anywhere near him, the bastard.

"Yes," Jou hissed, waiting, praying for the throbbing to subside so he could talk again, because the agony fogged so much of his brain that it was hard to think, let alone choke out anything more than a feeble affirmative.

"Hn." It was a noncommittal reply, but had Jou's motor skills been functioning, he'd have recognized the sultry tone, dark with shameless lust. It only clicked when Yutou's lips sought his, insistent and demanding, one hand curling into his hair, effectively immobilizing his head.

Jou thrashed—none of that startled 'I didn't realizewho it was' shit for him. He was very aware, very _fucking_ aware that Yutou had just kissed him and he didn't like it. Almost without him even telling it to, his good hand had reached out and grabbed Yutou by the throat, shoving him back against the wall. "Oh, hell no," Jou snarled. "I'm not Seto. I'm not letting you do this to me."

Yutou blinked, chest heaving as he struggled for air. He wasn't used to fighting, not this much anyways. And Jou…Jou wasn't letting go. Yutou couldn't breathe. He couldn't…oh God, everything was shutting down. His vision blurred, ran together like water thrown on a still-wet painting as he struggled weakly, fingers scrabbling at Jou's unrelenting grip. Was it his imagination, or were those fingers tightening? He was lightheaded already and he could do no more than arch pitifully away from Jou, tugging weakly at the younger man's grip. "Please," he gasped. "Don't…want…to…die…"

"Tch," Jou growled, dropping Yutou. The elder man fell to the bed with a grateful wheeze as air, sweet, glorious air rushed back into his lungs. "Wasn' gonna kill you."

"I couldn't breathe," Yutou panted. "What the hell were you going to do, then?"

"I wanted you off a' me. I'm not lettin' you do that t'me. I'm not a kid, Yutou; you're gonna have a hell of a time tryin' t' break me."

"I don't want you broken. I don't give a fuck about you." The arrogant tone was back, the fierce glare had returned, and the only sign of his former panic was the way he rubbed his throat as if trying to coax the pain away. "I never would have come after you if you hadn't taken him away."

"Taken 'im away? Who the hell're you kidding? If it wasn' me, it woulda been someone else. It's been seven years, Yutou. I'd say there's a pretty good reason he never called, y'know? Maybe this didn' quite get through t'you: you _raped_ 'im. As in fuckin' 'im without permission. Did you think that was turn-on for 'im or somethin'? When they cry, that's generally a bad sign."

"Shut up." It was pitiful, and Jou barely heard him. He was on a roll now—he wanted Yutou to realize what he'd done. He wanted him to be sorry, damnit!

"Why'd you do it, Yutou? You like little boys?"

"He was fourteen."

"And? He was still a kid. Don' try t' justify it by sayin' he was old enough to make his own decisions. He didn' decide t' sleep wit' you. From what I hear, you didn' give 'im much choice."

"Shut _up_."

"Y'know, somethin' else I've been wonderin'. Why'd you have other people sleep wit' 'im? You seem like the possessive type t' me. Didn' that bother you?"

"It was…Gozaborou's decision." Yutou was fairly shaking with rage, clenching his fists so hard that his short, sharp nails drew blood, but…he was scared. Underneath the anger there was a fine tremor of fear, something he hadn't felt in God only knew how long. He was scared of this…this _kid,_ this badly-bred, foul-mouthed mutt. A kid shorter than him, skinnier, and twelve years younger. What was wrong with him? "He thought I was…I was getting too attached."

"And you were," Jou said, a sneer marring his pretty face. "That's why you came after 'im, isn' it? You're more than attached, you're obsessed. You're in love wit'—"

"Don't," Yutou rasped, eyes narrowed to near slits. His fingers clenched the fabric of his pants so tightly that there were sure to be permanent wrinkles, and his shoulders were hunched around his ears. Every muscle in his body was pulled taut, the tendons in his neck standing out like whipcords, and Jou quailed a bit—what was it with crazy people? They were all scary.

"Don't you _dare_ try to judge what I did. You're a kid, how could you possibly—"

"I'm twenty-three," Jou snapped. "Hardly a kid. An' I don' fuckin' _care_ what happened t' you. It doesn' matter. All I know is that you screwed up someone I love, someone that loves me. An' I'm not gonna let you anywhere near him again."

The kid had no idea what he was doing. He couldn't have, he barely knew Yutou. But Yutou himself…oh yes, he understood. He recognized the onslaught of anger, the fire burning in his stomach, the way he quivered with furious passion (and not the good kind, either; he was fucking _pissed_). He'd only been like this a very few times in his life and…every time things had gone badly to say the least.

Loved him? Seto loved him? He couldn't have that. Seto was his, he belonged to him, mind, body and soul. If Yutou couldn't have his heart, his love, his compassion…well, he'd be damned if this mutt got it. He was going to enjoy ripping that smirk off his angelic face, yes he was. _We'll see how pretty Seto thinks you are after I'm done with you_.

Yutou laughed, and it was the most terrifying sound Jou had ever heard.


	21. Don't Owe you Anything

Chapter Twenty-One

This was _the_ hardest chapter I've written, but I know where I'm going with the story now. I'm sorry it took so long to update...gah. Gomen nasai, minna-san!

* * *

Nothing hurt anymore.

In fact, he couldn't feel anything. He wiggled his fingers experimentally, bent them backward until the nails touched the back of his hand. Nothing, not even a twinge, no indication that he'd nearly broken his own hand. It should have bothered him more, he supposed. It certainly couldn't be a good thing, but, well, wasn't this what he wanted? He didn't want to remember, he didn't want to be in pain.

And he wasn't. He was…well, the only word he could come up with was serene. He was so calm, so collected, so…it was almost surreal, the complete absence of everything that made him…_him_.

It wasn't that he'd forgotten. No, he remembered Yutou perfectly, right down to the mole in the crook of his elbow, but the images held no fear for him anymore, no terror. It concerned him, but it was a distant, cold sort of concern, the kind one would feel when a favourite character on a TV drama is injured. Nothing seemed quite real. Why would that be?

He glanced around him, noting the stark white walls, cold , artificial light beaming down from the ceiling, the sparse furniture, the bleak tile floors. Where was he? What had happened? How had he gotten here? The last thing he remembered…what…yes, it had been Honda. He'd been begging Honda, pleading with him for help, help to find…something. What, he wasn't entirely sure, but it had to be important, because Kaiba Seto didn't _beg_.

What had he been searching for? He had no idea, but he still had this need, this drive to find it, as if he were forgetting something vital, something that…well, now he was just giving himself a headache. Why couldn't he remember?

"Hello?" he tried, glancing around the room. It was eerie, to be sure, all white and cold and impersonal.

"Sound familiar, little one?"

Normally, that would have scared the hell out of him. Especially since there was most definitely no one in the room with him, there was…nothing. Even he…it seemed as if the room could consume him, drain him of his colour, his life, his very existence until he blended in, a ghost in the snow, a specter against pure white walls watching and waiting in a room where nothing ever happened.

Where had _that_ come from? Something was talking to him, and not in his head, either, and here he was rambling on about ghosts and specters and whatnot. But…what made him so sure he _wasn't_ a ghost? Ghosts didn't feel, right? He could have died, this could be…be what? He wasn't sure if he believed in heaven and hell or reincarnation or anything at all. Maybe when people died they all wound up like this, dead and cold in a white, white room with echoes of themselves bouncing around in their skulls.

"I want to go home," he said, and it was only when the words were out of his mouth, only when they reverberated off the empty walls that he realized what he'd said. He _did_ want to go home, but why? What was there for him? He didn't spend enough time in it to have any good memories there, even the night he'd spent with Jou had been in some hotel room halfway across the world.

How cheap that sounded. A hotel room and bottle of wine…add in a needy pup and an emotionally disturbed CEO, and what do you get? Hell, pure, utter hell. No, that wasn't quite right. Shamed lust and a memory that came back to haunt him, that was all. He thought maybe he'd wanted it, but he'd been so wasted it was hard to think much of anything.

It wasn't how he'd wanted their first time together to be. He wanted to be ready, he wanted to…to really know if what he felt for Jou was love or desperation. He'd never had anyone _care_ quite so much, was it possible he was just attached to someone who'd shown him sympathy? Was he even capable of loving?

And, if he wasn't, what made him human? It wasn't intelligence, because even computers have calculated reasoning. Not emotion, those were too out of control to be normal. What made him alive? _Was_ he even alive? Not in the literal sense of the word; his heart beat and he still needed oxygen, so that was practically a given. But he didn't live for anything. He didn't _want_ to live for anything, he just…

He didn't know what he wanted.

"Oh, little one. So confused, so broken."

"I'm not broken," he muttered automatically, but he wasn't so sure anymore. He wasn't whole, that much he knew. Somehow, something had gotten past his barriers, pounded at them enough to leave a fine spider's web of cracks that would shatter with the faintest touch. And he'd worked so _hard_ at it, he'd practiced his glare in the bathroom mirror, he'd practiced being strong. Look at him now, scared and whimpering and crying everywhere…he didn't know why Yutou would even want him back, never mind Jonouchi.

Yutou had taught him so well, he'd put so much work into him, and…he'd failed. He couldn't even pretend anymore, everything that made him strong, everything that made him Seto was gone. He wasn't Seto anymore, and he'd never been Kaiba. He was just a nameless, restless spirit. A ghost. Something to pity.

Jou had told him, told him he didn't pity him, but…Seto couldn't believe that. He wanted to, oh yes, but it just didn't make sense. Jou had seen the worst side of him, the scared, pitiful, _pathetic_ side of him, why else would he keep coming back? It didn't make sense. He didn't want sex, didn't feel sorry for him…he had to be lying on one count, at least.

Seto hated being so dependent on Jou, he didn't want to have to count on another human being for happiness. Humans were unreliable, always-changing, and what would happen to him when Jou moved on, when he realized he could do better? Jou had his own problems, he needed someone who could help him, and Seto was too screwed up to even begin to attempt _that_. He couldn't help anyone. All he did was carry on the Kaiba tradition, destroying lives and hurting people. He hadn't grown up to be a decent human being. He was almost as bad as Yutou—he couldn't stop thinking about how he

He might as well be dead.

Jou couldn't love him, he couldn't love Jou, Yutou couldn't want him, Mokuba couldn't stand him, and Seto was _done._

"I want to sleep."

"Do you?"

"Forever," he said, clenching his fists, a fine tremor running through his body at the finality of his own words. "I don't want to wake up anymore."

"Is that what you want?"

"Yes. No more pain, I just…I want it to end."

Warm arms wrapped around him and he was being pressed to a firm, muscular chest the he couldn't see. Fingers stroked his hair and Seto's eyes dropped half-closed as he curled into the gentle touch. It was strange, embracing something that wasn't really there, but…it was right, somehow. His eyes slid closed as those arms welcomed him, held him, kept him safe. He was so tired…so very tired, and this body was so comfortable, he was drowning in it, sinking past sternum and ribcage until he nestled inside the voice's chest, safe and protected and happy. Nothing but the rhythmic thump of his own heart, lulling him to sleep.

Slender fingers pressed to sun-bronzed skin and white teeth glittered in a half-smile. "Sleep, little one. It's over."

_Over…_yes, it was over…he didn't hurt anymore…he wasn't scared…

Seto was gone.

oooooooooOOOooooooooo

"Can it be done?"

"I don't know, it worked with Marik…I suppose it's along the same lines? Same Item, anyways, you _do_ know how to work it…"

"What're you two talking about?"

Yuugi jumped guiltily, whirling around to face Otogi. He and Yami had been huddled in the back of Mokuba's limo, deep in conversation. "Nothing," he stammered. Otogi smirked; Yuugi was the worst liar in the world.

Yami, for his part, kept a wonderful poker face. "Nothing that concerns you, anyways," he said, looping an arm around his hikari's waist and tugging the smaller boy backwards into his lap. Yuugi squeaked and blushed, but Yami buried his nose in his hikari's hair and stared coolly at Otogi until the black-haired man snorted and turned away.

"Stubborn," was all he said.

"Damn right." Yami grinned at the back of Otogi's head and went back to plotting with his lover. "I don't know, koi, Seth was never very cooperative when I knew him…taking him away may do more harm than good."

"But he could protect them."

"He's half of Seto, the same way you're half of me. If we let him out, let him be conscious, Seto _will_ fall in love with him, and I don't know if there'll be room for Jou. I don't want to manipulate Seto's feelings like that, not while he's so fragile."

"Do you mean…if I'd never put the Puzzle together, if Ryou had never gotten the Ring, if Marik hadn't killed Malik's father and stolen the Rod…do you mean we could have loved someone else? That the only reason we've fallen in love with you and Bakura and Marik is because you're our yamis?"

"Do you resent that?" Yami asked quietly, and Yuugi's small fists clenched on his lap when he realized he'd wounded the Pharaoh. "Do you resent that I denied you the chance to love?"

"Idiot," Yuugi said fondly. "You didn't deny me anything. Don't think like that." He punched his yami on the shoulder. "I love _you_, moron."

Yami sighed dramatically. "So abusive," he complained, rubbing the afflicted shoulder.

"Shut up. You know you like it."

"Something I've been thinking about," Otogi said, nudging Mokuba while Yuugi and Yami bickered playfully in the back seat. "Don't you think it's odd that Seto's not here? I mean, Jou's missing, Seto doesn't seem like the type to just vanish when something like that happens. He loves him, right?"

"Yeah," Mokuba agreed, staring at the sleeping Koto, curled up close to Ryou while the white-haired hikari absently stroked his hair and chatted with his yami. "I don't know. It doesn't make any sense to me, either. Something's wrong, isn't it?"

Poor thing, Otogi thought, watching him bite his lip nervously and toy with a lock of jet-black hair. He loved his brother so much, he was so worried…Otogi leaned his head on Mokuba's shoulder and traced spirals over the younger boy's stomach. "He'll be alright, Mokuba. He's lived through worse than this."

"I hope so."

"We… ano…minna-san?" Koto was awake now, clasping his hands in front of his chest and glancing around at all of them nervously. "We're here."

It was tense, walking into that apartment building. Everyone except Honda was clutching onto someone else, consciously or not; Mokuba was nuzzled into Otogi's chest, Yuugi had a death grip on Yami's hand (enough to make the Pharaoh wince), Ryou held Bakura's coat sleeve in one hand and Koto's hand in the other. They were more connected now that they ever had been. Yes, they'd all had their differences in the past, yes some of them had tried to kill each other more than a few times, but now…now they were together to save Jonouchi.

No one wanted to think about what lay ahead. They all knew what Yutou was capable of—hell, Koto still bore the scars on his stomach. Jou could be hurt, Yutou could have raped him…he could be dead for all they knew. And yet they trudged on; Jou needed them, they weren't going to abandon him.

Not now.

ooooooooooooOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooo

Jou couldn't think. He couldn't breathe, he was sure a rib or two were poking into his lungs. He hurt, he hurt all over, so badly…Yutou was insane, absolutely crazy…there was no other explanation. Not that Jou had ever doubted it, but sometimes he was so normal, so…human. He was brilliant in his charade, the best actor Jou had ever met—and in his dysfunctional circle of friends, that was saying something. Even Bakura's portrayal of Ryou hadn't been _this_ good.

He had started to whimper at some point, but as to when he wasn't entirely sure. He'd always prided himself on his ability to withstand pain; he'd been electrocuted, punched, kicked, had his head slammed into brick walls, had beer bottles broken over his skull, and he'd never once complained. Back in his gang days, he'd once walked around for a month with a broken ankle before he'd given into Honda's nagging enough to go to the hospital. But this, this was beyond pain. Beyond the limits of anything a human could stand, and had Jou been anyone else, he would have been screaming until his throat was raw.

His shoulder was out of place, and it had kind of gone numb about half an hour ago. He was sure, though, if he moved again it would burst back into flame and he didn't want to cry in front of this madman, he _couldn't _cry in front of him. His torso was purple, literally covered in bruises and more than a few of Yutou's blows had broken skin. Every breath was torture and he hoped to God that Yutou hadn't damaged any internal organs. Yutou had torn off the splint he'd so carefully applied and retied the ropes so that they crushed the broken bones against each other and Jou was more trapped than he'd ever been, a prisoner to his own agony. Any movement at all would hurt, he knew it would, and he lay as still as he could, breathing shallowly while he watched the man sitting on his chest warily through half-lidded eyes.

Yutou smirked when he saw Jou's gaze on him. He was straddling the blonde's stomach, not really _doing_ anything, just sitting there watching Jou try to breathe and fight back tears. He clenched a cigarette between his teeth and every so often he would exhale a puff of smoke and flick away ashes. "Something wrong?"

Jou whined in response—he'd meant it to be a sound, really he had. He'd meant to swear at Yutou, to tell him what a sick bastard he was, but somehow it hadn't come out quite right. Yutou's grin widened.

"Have I broken you so soon, kitten? You've held out longer than I thought you would, you know." He trailed lazy fingertips over the abrasions on Jou's stomach and Jou winced, then regretted it immediately after—even his face hurt. "Cry for me," Yutou purred. "I know it's got to hurt."

"You—got—no—fuckin'—idea," Jou snarled, barely able to choke the words out. Damn, if the man would just get _off_ him, he'd be able to breathe again.

"I know more about it than you'd think," Yutou murmured, face darkening. The smug grin was gone, the playful insanity replaced by bitter gravity in those narrowed hazel eyes. "Don't underestimate me."

"I don't," Jou gasped. "Look, if you wanna have a conversation, could ya get offa me? I can't breathe."

To his surprise, Yutou complied. "Don't make a habit of ordering me around, Jonouchi. I don't take to that very well." He took another drag on his cigarette and sat back on his haunches, studying the battered little blonde. "You've got a hell of a lot of self-control, I'll give you that."

"Years of practice," Jou growled, struggling to sit up. "Y'know, soon as I get outta this, I'm gonna kick your sorry ass."

"Not much incentive for me to let you go, now is there?"

"Maybe not." It was better now, he didn't hurt so much with the absence of a hundred-and-fifty-pound man on his chest. He rolled his head on his shoulders, trying to work out the kinks in his spine and shuddered when it made a horrible cracking sound. "Ouch."

"What did you want to talk about?" Yutou exhaled a cloud of smoke and watched Jou steadily. He was almost scarier when he was calm, Jou thought. His eyes were so dead, so emotionless—Jou couldn't for the life of him predict what he might do next.

Jou glared right back. "I wanna know why you did it."

"Why I did what?"

"Don' play wit' me, asshole. Why'd you rape Seto?"

"It was necessary."

"Fer what?" Yutou glared sharply at him, but his eyes were wide and puzzled; he was truly curious, there was no sarcasm in his comment. "How could somethin' like that possibly be necessary?"

"He was too kind," Yutou sighed, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and staring out the window. It was so much easier to talk without those honey-brown eyes watching him, and God help him, he _wanted_ to talk. "You didn't know him when he was little, right?" A swishing of hair against bedsheets indicates a shake of the head and Yutou continued. "Everything hurt him. He was so sensitive, he'd cry when he saw those 'support a child for nine dollars a week' ads on T.V. Spent a good amount of his allowance on them, too."

"What's wrong wit' that? I mean, all little kids are sensitive."

"He took it far past what was normal. He couldn't function, he felt guilty for having so much while other children had so little. I don't know what happened to make him like that, maybe he was born that way, but Gozaborou was less than happy with the way things were going. He needed a ruthless machine, not a tenderhearted child. No child could have run a weapons manufacturing company. It would have killed him."

"So Gozaborou hired you."

"Yes."

"Why?"

Yutou flinched. "I…owed him. He did a favour for me when I was young."

"Musta been a hell of a favour, for you t' do all that."

"Yes, it was." Yutou inhaled deeply, allowing the nicotine to wash through his lungs and calm him. "I didn't want to hurt Seto. I swear to you, I never meant to hurt him."

"But you did."

"I couldn't stop myself." Yutou hung his head with a sigh. "I didn't want to make him like this. I just…couldn't stop, even when he was screaming and crying…I don't know, I just…couldn't. He refused to even look at me for a month after that." Why was he saying this? Everything was pouring out and he couldn't break it off now…what the hell was wrong with him? He didn't want to talk to Jonouchi of all people, he didn't want to talk at all! He was Kamimura Yutou, he didn't need to talk to anyone about anything.

"Surprise," Jou said bitterly.

"I felt sick at first, once I realized what I'd done to him. I never thought I'd be able to do something like this, but…he's like a drug, you know that? I'd dream about him every night and it was driving me insane."

"Nah, I'm pretty sure you were insane long before that."

"After I…I took him the second time, he stopped talking. He didn't cry at anything anymore, but he didn't smile either. He used to have the most beautiful smile." He turned sad hazel eyes to Jou's startled brown ones. Jou blinked—he actually looked like he regretted what he'd done. Maybe there was still a scrap of humanity in him, maybe he wasn't as far gone as Jou had thought.

"Did he?" Jou prompted and Yutou smiled softly, an expression that looked as out of-place on him as a third eye would have. Jou had never seen him smile like this, he'd only seen the man smirk and scowl…

Wait. That seemed familiar….

"_Wha's this?" He cradled the picture frame gently, studying the faded smiles of the people trapped behind that thin pane of glass. Mokuba and a tall, brunette boy with sparkling cerulean eyes, the elder with his arm slung around the younger's shoulders, grinning at the camera in a moment of frozen bliss. Jonouchi took a second to wonder why it had taken him so long to recognize Seto's face, and then it struck him. It was because Seto never smiled._

_He smirked, sure, that arrogant "I'll-sue-you-if-you-so-much-as-breathe-on-me" grin that he'd always secretly found endearing, in its own bizarre way. But he'd never given much thought to Seto's apparent lack of happiness. He always just assumed that Seto was stoic by nature. _

_But this picture belied his suspicions. For him to barely be recognizable when he smiled … Jou found himself wondering what Seto would look like now, flashing those even white teeth in a grin. He couldn't picture it, and that scared him. Jonouchi's imagination had never failed him before._

Oh, damn. Seto really _was_ a lot like Yutou, wasn't he? Not in everything, no…Seto would never _ever_ rape anyone, let alone a child, but their personalities were too similar for comfort. Sure, Yutou was a bit more manic than Seto, but…it was disconcerting, that was all.

"Yutou?" he asked. "Um…y'know, I was just thinkin'…you an' Seto're a lot alike. An' I was wonderin'…what happened to you?"

"And why," Yutou hissed, all traces of his previous amiable temper gone, "Would I be obliged to tell you that?"

"It just makes sense. I mean, you've gotta have a reason for…being th' way you are. You're nuts, yeah, but I kinda doubt you were born like that. I mean, t' me, it seems like you were tryin' t' protect Seto in your own weird twisted way. Maybe that's the only way you know how to protect anyone."

"Nothing happened to me," Yutou growled, turning away again. "You're bothering me, Jonouchi."

"So you were always like this," Jou said flatly. "Y'know, it's a lot easier to sympathize wit' you when you got a reason for what you did."

"I'm not asking for sympathy, Jonouchi."

"Never said you were. I just wanna understand, that's all." He tugged at his bonds. "Y'think maybe you could let me go?"

Yutou shook his head. "No. We did that once already, remember? And why do you want to understand?"

"Because it doesn' make sense. You don' make sense. People don' just go around rapin' kids for no reason."

"What would it matter if I had a reason?" There was an edge in his voice now, his eyes were hands and he clenched his fists at his sides. "Justification doesn't pardon the crime."

"No," Jou agreed, "but it would make a lot more sense if you _did_ have a reason. I mean, I know Seto's cute, but he was just a—" Jou broke off when Yutou's fist landed solidly on his cheek. "Ow!"

"Shut up," Yutou hissed, and Jou wondered if he was bipolar—sad and apologetic one moment, irate and furious the next. "Shut the fuck up."

"No," Jou snapped right back. "You got a reason an' you won' tell me, is that it?"

"What if it is? I don't need to explain myself to a mutt like you."

"I'm Seto's _lover_." Jou spat the last word out, enjoying the flash of anger that crossed Yutou's handsome face. "You owe me an explanation."

"I don't owe you a damn thing, Jonouchi. I've paid my debts."

"You keep bringin' that up. I don' recall you ever doin' anythin' for me 'sides kidnappin' me. Maybe I missed somethin'?"

Yutou was practically livid with rage now. He bared his teeth at Jou. "I don't owe anyone anything, least of all you."

"So who'd you…ah…pay these debts to? Musta been a hell of a tradeoff fer you t' have free reign an' all. Do laws not apply to you, either?"

"Don't talk about things you don't understand."

"Who says I don' understand? You think you're the only one wit' a crappy history? We've all got our traumas, idiot. You jus' took 'em a bit farther than mos' people."

"Don't you _dare_ compare yourself to me. I've gone through more than you can imagine."

"Can' really judge that, now can I?" Jou asked with a lazy smile. Psychopaths were so easy to play. "Not like you'll tell me anythin'."

And then he screamed, because Yutou had just pressed the lit end of his dying cigarette into an open wound on Jonouchi's stomach. Oh, that did _not_ feel good, that did _not_ feel good…Jou had burned himself before, sure, but not like this…never like this…he realized dully that he'd bitten through his lip in an attempt to stifle a cry (which had escaped anyways) and his mouth was filling with blood. He spat it out with a wince. "What was that for?"

"For being a smartass," Yutou said. "Any more comments, kitten?"

"While we're at it," Jou gasped. "You love Seto, don' you?"

Yutou raised a hand as if to strike, and Jou sneered at him.

"Go ahead and hit me," he snarled. "That's the only way you can deal with me telling you the truth, isn't it? Violence is all you know, Yutou. It's all you can do. What the hell happened t' you t' make you like this? It got somethin' t' do wit' your family?"

"No!" But it wasn't controlled, not anything like the way Yutou normally spoke. It came out in a pitiful sob, a desperate sort of howl. "Nothing happened to me!" The cigarette slipped from nerveless fingers and fell harmlessly to the floor as Yutou clutched at his head, curling into himself and shaking violently. Jou tried to sit up, to watch Yutou and the man cringed at the movement. "Don't hit me!"

"How the hell'm I s'posed t' do that?" Jou asked, mystified. "I'm tied up, remember? Yutou?"

There was no indication that he'd so much a heard Jonouchi; he simply curled up tighter, his trembles shaking the whole bed. "I didn't mean to, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—"

"Yutou, calm down," Jou said. He was starting to panic; he was tried up on a bed with a man having a mental breakdown…this did not bode well. "C'mon man, stay with me. I won' hurt ya, I swear. Yutou? Yutou—"

Yutou's sobs were lost in the violent explosion that had, at one point, been the front door.

"Jonouchi?"

"Seto!" Jou cried in relief. "Seto, in here! In the bedroom! Yutou's with me!"

The door swung open and Jou's smile dropped. Whoever that was…there was no way it could be Seto.


	22. Brotherly Love

Chapter Twenty-Two

"You touch him and I'll slit your throat."

Ryou shot Bakura a startled look and dashed into the room after Yami and Yuugi. Seto had taken off quite suddenly (Koto had vanished the minute they set foot inside the building, for reasons Ryou hadn't yet been able to pry out of Seto), leaving the rest of them behind and quite confused as to where he was going. Yami had been uncharacteristically nervous since then, and Bakura had kept a firm hold on Ryou, leading the hikaris to believe that something wasn't _quite_ right.

The moment they walked into Yutou's bedroom, everything was confirmed.

"Hey, Pharaoh?" There was no malice behind the question; shock, maybe, but no trace of the contempt with which Bakura usually spat Yami's title.

"Yes?" And again, no indication of any enmity between the two; indeed, they very well may have been discussing the results of a recent baseball game, or something of the sort.

"How long has Kaiba been able to do that?"

"As far as I know, never."

Yutou was floating ten feet above where he normally should have been…obviously something a little more than that, since he was thrashing around as if a particularly irate animal had hold of him, clutching at his throat and gasping for air. To Yami, Yutou glimmered faintly with Shadow magic, but he wasn't sure Bakura could see it, not having been a sorcerer in a past life.

"Kaiba!"

No reply. Yami stepped in front of his hikari, just in case, and tried again. "Kaiba!"

Again, the pseudo-Seto made no indication that he'd even heard Yami. He wasn't answering to his own name. Instead, the corners of his mouth turned up in a smile that was all too familiar to Yami. "Stay back, all of you," he ordered when Honda made a move as if to go to Jonouchi. "He'll be fine. Don't get anywhere near Kaiba."

They took the command surprisingly well; Yami had the tendency to slip back into Pharaoh-mode when under pressure, and this was no exception.

Jou screamed like a frightened animal when Seto came close to him, tossing his head back and kicking at the mattress in his attempt to sit up. He was injured, badly injured, and it was a wonder he could even move, let alone fight so furiously.

"What are you doing to him? _Kaiba Seto, what the fuck are you doing to him?_" Jou, needless to say, wasn't exactly comfortable with the concept of magic; it equated a little too closely with ghosts in his mind. Not to mention, he'd never seen anything like this from _Seto_ of all people; he'd stubbornly maintained his 'magic-doesn't-exist' theory for years, up until the yamis had been granted their own bodies.

"Does it bother you?" The bastard didn't even sound like Seto, Seto had never sounded apologetic in his life! He didn't talk like that! Jou let out another fresh cry when the thing wearing his lover's body reached for him. It wasn't even Seto's other personality, it was something else, something…sinister. Dangerous.

"You fuckin' touch me an' I'll rip you apart," Jou growled. "Let him go!"

"As you wish," Seto sighed, with a dismissive wave towards Yutou. The blonde fell to the ground with a grateful wheeze, clutching his aching throat. "I don't understand why you want to protect something like that," he snarled with a quick glance towards the elder man. "Just look what he did to you." Seto (?) sat down on the bed next to Jou and began untying the ropes. Jou tried to bite him several times until Seto's long fingers closed around his jaw, cold blue eyes meeting stubborn amber. "Behave."

"Let go a' me," Jou whispered.

"Don't be foolish," Seto said gently, running his fingers through Jou's blood-matted hair. "I'm here to help you." Jou jerked away and bared his teeth. "Growl all you want, little one. Frightened puppies bark the loudest. I understand."

"I'm not frightened!" The last knot slipped free and Jou massaged his broken wrist tenderly, wincing as the blood began to flow back into his limbs. Seto shook his head and placed a hand on Jou's chest.

"Relax, little one," he said calmly, closing his eyes. Jou didn't, he had no intention of listening to this…this _thing_, but it didn't seem to make much of a difference. Seto began a chant, a slow, rhythmic chant in a language Jou had never heard before.

"My gods," he heard Yami cry, but it was distant, as if he were miles away rather than two feet. "Stay back! Get away from him!"

The chant continued and Jou couldn't help but repress a shiver; it was eerie, and the room seemed to be growing colder by the second. A harsh wind whipped at his hair, undoubtedly generated by Seto, since they were still inside. Jou squinted into the wind and blinked once.

Seto was glowing.

Blue flame rippled along his arms, dancing over his whole body and centering on Jou's chest. Seto's hands against his flesh were suddenly white-hot in contrast with the rapidly-cooling air around him and the frigid wind. A helpless glance towards his friends revealed that there were having trouble bracing themselves against the wind, as Yuugi had collapsed onto the ground, clutching the carpet with all his strength, and Ryou was sliding steadily backwards. Bakura was already against the wall, holding onto Otogi and Mokuba to keep them from being flung through the open door, and Yami had one hand on his hikari's shirt and the other on Honda's sleeve.

"What are you doing?" Jou yelled, but his voice was lost in the gale Seto seemed to have dredged up from nowhere. "Seto, what's going on?"

The brunette ignored him, just kept right on chanting (odd, it was the only thing Jou could hear through the howling winds) and for a brief moment the flames shone so brilliantly that Jou screwed his eyes shut and cried out in pain. A shock of pain jolted him suddenly and he arched his back, screaming as the heat coursed through his entire body, burning him alive, tearing and scorching, and it was agony, pure agony, he couldn't stop screaming…

And then, as suddenly as it had come, the pain was gone. Seto's chanting had ceased and the winds died into a gentle breeze that eventually faded into nothingness. Jou collapsed forward, catching himself before he fell face-down on the bed, panting.

"There," he heard Seto say. "All healed."

And he was. He bruises were gone, every last one of them, the burns and scrapes were nowhere to be seen…even a long, jagged scar he'd had slashing across his hip from his gang days had vanished, leaving behind smooth, unmarred skin. Jou put a cautious hand to his chest and pushed down, expecting his broken ribs to grate against each other and they didn't; Seto had even healed those.

"How did you do that?" Jou asked, dazed. Yutou had scrambled into a corner and was watching the brunette on the bed with huge, terrified eyes. "Seto, how did you—"

"Seto is dead."

Jou blinked. "What?"

"Stop playing with him," Yami snapped. Jou had never seen the pharaoh look so furious; his violet eyes gleamed with the faintest hint of crimson, and his entire body was tense; Yuugi was wincing from the hold Yami had on his shoulder. "You've got a sick sense of humour, Seth."

"Pharaoh? I didn't expect to see you here." Seto (Seth?) smirked at the shorter man, but it wasn't _Seto's_ smirk, it was…something else. "How have you been?"

"Yami, what's going on?" Jou asked desperately, pleadingly. "Who is this?"

"High Priest Seth," Yami growled. "My cousin and Kaiba's yami."

Jou fainted.

oooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooo

"Unh…" Jou threw a hand over his eyes. His head ached, and he was so tired…his arm was trembling from just the effort of holding his arm up and shielding his eyes.

"He's waking up!"

"Thank the gods."

"Where am I?" Well, that was what he meant to say, but it came out more like "Whr'ma?" Which might have been why no one understood him. Jou opened his eyes slowly, squinting in bright artificial light as he stared up at the slowly revolving ceiling fan. He jumped when the ceiling was suddenly gone, replaced by pale skin, chestnut hair and crystal-blue eyes.

"Get away from me!" he yelped, shoving Seth away and scrambling back. It was him, that…that _thing_ controlling Seto! He'd nearly killed Yutou, and Jou didn't have any idea how he'd done it…the elder man had been writhing in midair, there was no way that was normal. Even by Jou's skewed standards.

"Yeah, he's awake." Jou shot Ryou a grateful look—thank God, they hadn't left him alone with this monster. Odd, though, it seemed like Bakura was trying to hide behind Ryou. It didn't work very well, since Bakura was quite a bit taller than his slight hikari.

Seth seemed to be somewhere between hurt and mildly amused, but he pulled back and let Jou have his space. "I saved you, little one. I don't think that merits such disrespect."

"Shut up," Yami snapped crankily from his position leaning against the wall, apparently as far from Seth as the room would allow. Yuugi stood next to him, looking worried and rubbing his yami's shoulder comfortingly. "Stop being such an ass, Seth. Can't you see he's scared?"

"I don't know why. I saved him from that…Yutou thing."

"You…who are you?" Jou asked, clutching the covers to his chest in a ridiculously feminine manner, as if he had something there to hide. He was shivering, but he wasn't scared, he _wasn't._ He'd faced down more than this before—hell, there was no _way_ this guy was crazier than Pegasus. Or Marik, or Malik, or Dartz, or—actually, Jou wasn't entirely sure why his initial reaction to Seth had been to scream. It seemed obvious now, away from the floating, thrashing Yutou and the terror of being tied down and tortured that Seto _would_ have a yami, he'd heard Yami mention Seth several times. And Seth _had_ healed him, which was probably the only reason Jou was conscious right now.

"Seto's yami," Seth said, sliding his hand under Jou's bangs to check for fever, and Jou let him, with an apologetic smile. "I think you're completely healed. It's been a while since I've tried anything like that."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Why…I mean, not that I'm not grateful or nothin', but why're you here? I've known Seto since he was sixteen, an' I never knew he even _had_ a yami. Why now?" It was true; he was fairly sure that Seto himself had never met Seth.

"Seto needed me. I'm not as bad as Atemu makes me out to be." He jerked his head at Yami, who didn't seem to be taking the arrival of his cousin very well. "Far be it from me to deny my _poor_ hikari anything he needs."

Yai's face darkened even more. "And what, dear cousin, do you mean by _that_?"

Seth smiled at Yami, either egging him on, or completely unaware of his temper. "I haven't neglected my duties as a yami, Atemu. I've taken care of him—"

"Oh, yes, _fine_ care," Yami interrupted. "You could have killed Yutou any time you wanted to, why on earth didn't you step in thirteen _years_ ago, when it could have made a difference?" Jou hadn't ever seen Yami this agitated, and he wondered exactly what the sorcerer-priest meant by 'duties.' Were yamis supposed to protect hikaris? Now that he thought about it, they all had—well, Marik and Yami more so than Bakura, but still…it wasn't that Yuugi, Malik and Ryou were _weak_, it had just always seemed natural for the yamis to keep their hikaris out of harm's way.

"I did what I could!" Seth's playful façade was abandoned in favour of a more immediate conflict, and his blue eyes clouded to a stormy gray with anger. "Your hikari _wanted_ you. He _believed_ in you. I couldn't very well possess a child that refused to accept that I existed! You know that, Atemu! It wasn't my fault, what happened to Seto! I tried! I scared him more than Yutou did!"

"Now there's a surprise," Yami snarled. "You think it had anything to do with your charming personality?"

_Thwack._

Yami rubbed the cheek where his cousin had struck him, wincing a little. "I went too far," he consented, the closest to an apology he'd ever given in the time Jou had known him. He gave his cousin a wry grin.

Seth grinned right back at him and clapped him on the shoulder. "It's alright. You've always been a bit pigheaded."

"Me? You're ten times as stubborn as I ever was. And you always got _me_ in trouble for all the jokes you played on the royal advisors."

"They were too stiff for their own good, anyways," Seth said with a wave of his hand. "Besides, you were the heir, they couldn't really _do_ anything to you…"

Jou shot Yuugi a bemused look and the little hikari returned it with a puzzled shrug. Seth and Yami were chatting amiably now, and Bakura seemed to be trying to hide behind Ryou. "They seem…uh…friendly?" Yuugi sat down on the foot of Jou's bed, shaking his head.

"I don't get it any more than you do," he said faintly.

"Um, excuse me," Jou said. "Hey, guys?" Yami and Seth paused. "Yeah, sorry—I was just wonderin'. What'd you do with Yutou?"

The room went silent.

oooooooOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooo

"You left him there." Jou's voice was flat, golden eyes devoid of anything but disbelief. "You _left_ him there. How on _Earth_ do you overlook a thirty-five-year-old man having a mental breakdown!"

"We were more worried about you," Yuugi said, toying with the cuff of his shirt. "You weren't in very good shape, and I guess…" he gestured helplessly. "We just sort of…forgot."

"Damn it." Jou buried his face in his hands. "Damn it, damn it, _damn it_. He could be anywhere. He could be dead. How could you just leave him there?"

"He's better off dead anyways," Seth said, leaning his chin on his palm. "I distinctly remember you threatening to kill him several times—I'm failing to see the problem here."

Jou sighed and dropped his hands. "Look, what he did, yeah, it was wrong on so many levels. And yeah, he can be a complete prick when he wants to. But…you weren't there, you didn't see him. Something happened to him when he was younger. He completely freaked out when I mentioned his family…he's just as screwed up as Seto."

"Tell me you're kidding." Mokuba slammed his fists down on the table, steely gray eyes narrowed and he was practically baring his teeth at Jou. "You're seriously suggesting that you feel _sorry_ for him? After what he did to you, after what he did to my brother? He's a rapist, he's crazy! He carved his name into Seto's chest! Don't you _dare_ suggest that he's the victim!"

"I'm telling you, something happened to him!" Jou met Mokuba's glare with one of his own. "People aren't just born like that! I mentioned his family, and he panicked! It was exactly like mentioning Yutou's name around Seto—something happened that he's not talking about!"

"Who the hell cares? He raped my brother! If you cared at all about him, if you really loved him—"

Jou backhanded him and Mokuba froze, head still facing in the direction it had been so abruptly turned. Pain wasn't a part of Mokuba's life, he'd never been in a fight before, and to be hit by _Jou_ of all people… "How dare you," Jou hissed, low and deadly, eyes blazing from under furrowed brows. "How _dare_ you try t' pin this on me. I don' need t' prove myself t' you, Mokuba. I love him, don't you _ever_ say otherwise!" Jou's furious whisper was steadily escalating into frenzied screams. "I've done everythin' I could for him! I let Yutou take me, because if I didn', your brother would've been killed!"

"What?" Mokuba blinked, looking shocked by the revelation and taken aback by Jou's temper all at the same time.

"Didn' know that, did you? Yeah, Yutou had fuckin' _snipers_ hidden in the press conference. He'd 'a killed him if I didn't go. So don't you _dare_ insinuate that I haven't given enough for him."

Mokuba's eyes filled with tears and he sat down rather abruptly, burrowing into the shelter of his folded arms. "I'm sorry," he sobbed. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean any of that—I've just been so worried—"

"I understand," Jou said with a sigh, taking his seat. "But Mokuba, you have t' be able t' see past revenge. Would killing Yutou really change anythin'? I mean, Seto'll still cry, he'll still hurt and he'll still have nightmares whether or not Yutou's breathin'. Whatever happened to Yutou wasn't his fault. He jus' needs help, an' he'll probably never get it."

"I'll find out." Otogi's emerald eyes were unusually serious, and he wasn't even toying with his hair. "He's right, Mokuba. Yutou needs help. If Seto…if Seto had turned out like that, wouldn't you try to do something?"

"Of course I would," Mokuba said miserably, slumping back over the table. "But Seto…he wouldn't, he just wouldn't." He shook his head, raven hair flying. "I know my brother. He'd never rape anyone."

"Don't be so sure," Seth said darkly. "He's come close, Mokuba."

Jou flushed and looked away. Mokuba's eyes widened and he grabbed at Jou's shoulder. "He didn't. Tell me he didn't." No, he couldn't have! Seto loved Jonouchi, he wouldn't…he wasn't Yutou…Seto was the exception to the rule, he had to be. His brother wasn't _like_ that! "Please, Jou. Tell me he didn't…didn't…"

"Of course he didn't," Jou said softly, still avoiding Mokuba's eyes. "But I think he knows why Yutou did what he did. You've got to understand what's going on in his mind, Mokuba. You can't judge a person's actions without considering their reasoning—when Seto's stressed, he gets aggressive." Jou closed his eyes and leaned his head against his knuckles.

"_Kaiba—mmph!" Jou had barely made it into the car when Seto grabbed him bodily and threw him down onto the limo seat. "What're you doin'?"_

_Kaiba's teeth closed on his throat and Jou choked. "Nnn … Seto … dat hurts … " He could feel the blood vessels rupturing below the skin, bruising a mark of ownership on his neck._

"_It's supposed to," Seto growled, claiming Jou's lips, sliding his tongue into the pup's mouth. He tasted like fear._

_His hands busied themselves with Jou's shirt, undoing the buttons swiftly, although he was close to just ripping it off. Jou struggled, beating futilely at his powerful back with half-pinned arms. "Please," he panted when Seto finally broke away for air. "Please don't do this—"_

"He equates sex with pain. He doesn't…doesn't understand that it's not supposed to hurt, because to him, sex means Yutou holding him down and forcing him to do things he doesn't want to do." Mokuba turned to Seth, who was very determinedly staring out the window. "If Yutou went through that—and it's a safe bet to say that he did—he's become addicted to a sense of control that he never had when he was younger. It's got nothing to do with Seto. Yutou doesn't know how to love. All he knows is violence, and that's the only way he can express affection."

"Have you got a computer in here?" Otogi asked suddenly.

"Yes," Seth answered. He gestured to Seto's desk, where a sleek black laptop was sitting in its place of honour on the polished mahogany. "It's on, I think." Otogi sat down in Seto's chair and opened the laptop, and then a rapid succession of keystrokes followed, punctuated by the occasional click of the mouse. "Might I ask what you're doing?"

"I'm trying to find out what Yutou owed Gozaborou. Jou said Yutou trained Seto as a favour to Yutou, right? And I'm willing to bet, if it would have made Gozaborou look better in the public eye by doing some poor kid a service, it'll have made at least one paper…" He trailed off, frowning at the screen. "Maybe not."

"How can you possibly have searched that fast?" Yuugi asked. "Maybe you missed something." Otogi raised perfectly-formed eyebrows.

"I'm Otogi Ryuuji. I don't miss things."

"How narcissistic of you," Bakura commented.

"If it didn't make the paper, maybe Yutou did something illegal."

"Besides raping children?"

"Shh," Mokuba told Yuugi. "He can't hear you anyways."

And it truly didn't seem that Otogi could—his eyes flicked so quickly across the screen that Jou was starting to feel sick. He was typing furiously, brows furrowed in concentration, and a pink tongue darted out occasionally to swipe subconsciously across his lips as he worked. They were silent, dead silent for a good ten minutes, and then—

"Hah!" Otogi slammed his fist on the desk in triumph. "I got it!"

"What," Yami said skeptically, eyeing Otogi, "did you get?"

"Hacked into Domino Police database—sure enough, our boy was born a little outside of the city, father was—"

"Wait," Jou said, narrowing one eye. "You hacked into a police database that quickly? How? Aren't they supposed to be well-guarded?"

"You'd think that." Otogi winked at him. "But I _am_ a genius, don't forget that." He cracked his knuckles and continued. "Anyways, born in the suburbs, father moved them into an apartment in your side of town, Honda. Yutou was six at the time…his father got a new job, something in public services, it doesn't really say…"

"Why do that have so much on him? I mean, that's a pretty thorough file."

"Yes, well, seems like Yutou was quite the troublemaker in his high school days. He was arrested about six times before he graduated. Stupid things, too, like stealing food from convenience stores and pick-pocketing. And he also tried to…ah…solicit his services to an off-duty cop."

"He was a prostitute?"

"Seems like it, doesn't it?" Otogi frowned again. "That doesn't make any sense. He came from a middle-class family; granted, he wasn't wealthy, but there was no reason for him to have to do that. That seem right to you?" He shook his head. "He did a few months in juvie for that, and then a week after he was released he got arrested _again_ on charges of assault and battery. Ooh, that's interesting."

"What?" Despite himself, Mokuba was interested. He shouldn't have been, he knew that, but…it made Yutou more human somehow. He'd never been anything more to Mokuba than the monster that broke his nii-sama, and even as a child Mokuba had lived in mortal terror of the man. Seto would go into his room and he'd come out…empty. After a while, he didn't smile anymore, and he wouldn't look at anyone. He'd just curl up on his room with the lights off and his blankets pulled over his head. Mokuba asked everyone that could possibly answer what was wrong, and they told him that Seto was ill, and Mokuba had believed them. Of course, he'd been too small to realize that Yutou's touch always lingered on Seto a little _too_ long, that he watched Seto a little _too_ closely. But this…this was Yutou before. Before he'd become what he was now.

"I think I figured out what Gozaborou did for him. It seems that Yutou had been working at Kaiba Corp as an intern for a year, and he was off parole. He was doing well, he'd stopped selling himself on every street corner…everyone thought that Yutou was over his rebellious phase, apparently. Of course, no one knew where the rebellion had come from—his father was an upstanding citizen, owned his own property, his own car and his own gravesite…Yutou killed him."

"What?" Jou didn't even turn to see who'd spoken; his heart had stopped. Yutou killed his father?

"_You can't love me! No one can love me! I'll kill you!" Seto screwed his eyes shut, tears finally spilling down his cheeks and he shrieked as loudly as he could, "I'LL KILL YOU! EVERY LAST FUCKING ONE OF YOU! JUST LIKE I KILLED HIM! I HATE YOU!"_

"_What?" Jou drew back, blinking stupidly at his koi. "Seto…who'd you kill?"_

"_WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK? I KILLED GOZABOROU! I THREW HIM OUT A FUCKING WINDOW AND WATCHED HIM BURST ON THE PAVEMENT!" _

"My God," Jou whispered. "He _is_ just like Seto."

"He didn't just kill him." Otogi looked slightly green. "You should see the autopsy pictures. The man was mutilated. The landlady let herself in to the apartment while Yutou was at work to check the water heater and she noticed that something smelled odd. She found Kamimura-san dead in his bedroom. The doctors said he'd been there for a week and half, and Yutou had just been going about his everyday business. Yutou pleaded insanity, and Gozaborou testified. I think he swung the case for Yutou…he was a Kaiba, after all, and the jury trusted him."

"Well, that explains—" Yami began, but Otogi cut him off.

"Hey, Mokuba?"

"What?"

"Did you…did you know that Gozaborou adopted Yutou?"

"He did what?" Mokuba's mind was blank. It was a joke, it had to be. A sick joke, but a joke nonetheless. There was no way, no way it could be true.

"Yeah, it was one of the conditions of Yutou's release…he had to have someone that would be responsible for him, and Gozaborou paid for all his therapy. Best doctors in the world. He never told you?"

"No…no, I didn't know…Yutou's my…my _brother_?"

"So it would seem. So it would seem."


	23. Yutou

Chapter Twenty-Three

This chapter is for Rosalyn Angel. Nearly this entire chapter is Yutou-centric. I don't recommend skipping it, because I think it's really good, but…(shrugs) if you hate Yutou, I guess you could.

oooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooo

Outwardly, he looked fine. A little glazed, perhaps, but that was only to be expected. He was well-practiced in the art of hiding, he'd had so many opportunities to test his skills. His breathing was perfectly normal, his muscles relaxed; his eyes slid in and out of focus, but they weren't wide with fear. Actually, he looked rather like he had had a bad night's sleep. Nothing that a nap couldn't cure.

Inside, though…inside he wasn't even aware of what was going on around him. He wasn't him anymore, he wasn't the cold, cruel man he'd been for years. He was a child again, small and scared and hiding in the closet under the stairs, nestled amid dusty old coats and a battered foxfur his mother had worn in her younger days.

He liked this closet. It was warm and tiny and secret, and when he hid here no one knew where he'd gone for hours. He was always careful to sneak out and allow himself to be found in some ridiculously obvious hiding place, because if anyone knew he hid here, he was sure that next time he needed to be alone it would be locked, bolted, and stapled shut. And without his closet, he had nowhere to go. His bedroom wasn't safe, he didn't even have a lock on his door, and it was so open that there was nowhere to hide. He didn't fit under his bed (it was low to the ground, a hybrid between a futon and a Western-style bed), the toybox was too small to conceal him, and if he tried to fit into the closet, he couldn't shut the doors. His room was bad. He only went in there when he had to, because he couldn't forget everything that happened there. He wanted to, but…every time he set foot in the doorway, he'd remember the Voice hissing in his ear, the hands wandering his young body, and it scared him.

The Voice most of all.

There were good days and bad days. On good days they were like a normal family—he would come home from school and curl up in a corner with his homework, his mother would hum happily as she bustled around the kitchen, cooking dinner, and they'd all sit down to eat together, once his father had come home. Yutou could always tell good days from bad days, because of where Daddy would park his car. On good days, he would pull it cleanly into the garage, get out, close the garage door and spend a few minutes chatting with the neighbours. He'd come inside to eat with them, he'd talk with his wife, and after dinner he'd play chess with Yutou, because it would teach him "strategy," whatever that was. He would smile and joke and speak in that deep, gentle rumble that Yutou liked so much.

Bad days, though, on bad days, he'd leave the car parked sloppily in the driveway, he'd stomp up the front walk and Yutou would be waiting for him by the door to hang up his jacket, just like he was supposed to. He would receive a blow to the head, perhaps for not hanging up the coat properly, and then Daddy would use the Voice and Yutou would hang his head and try not to cry.

The Voice ranged from anywhere to a low, hissing whisper to the roars of fury Yutou received when he got bad marks on his tests. The Voice wasn't like his father at all, it wasn't gentle or kind or…or…any of those. It was furious, dangerous, and Yutou stepped carefully to avoid setting it off. The Voice had become a separate entity to him, something that possessed his father, like the demons in those stories Mommy used to tell him at bedtime. So Yutou didn't blame his father for anything, simply because it wasn't him. But sometimes he'd dream about the Voice and he'd wake up crying, although he never let Daddy see that. Daddy didn't like weakness, he thought crying was too girly.

Good days and bad. Good days and bad.

"Where the hell are you, boy?"

Today was bad.

"He can't find me," Yutou whispered to himself as he burrowed further under his mother's foxfur. "He doesn't know where I am. He won't find me." Heavy footsteps thudded across the upstairs hall, a door opened and slammed shut, and then Yutou heard a woman scream. "He can't find me, he can't find me, he can't find me—"

"I don't know where he is!" A sharp slap echoed and Yutou whimpered, screwing his eyes shut and clamping his teeth down on his tongue. "Heiji, stop it! I don't know where he is!"

"Boy! You'd better get out here if you want your mother back in one piece!"

"Heiji, stop it! Let me—aah!"

"You hear me, Yutou?"

Before he could quite register what he was doing, Yutou had thrown the closet door open and was dashing up the stairs frantically. "Let her go!" he cried, grabbing his father around the waist and trying to pull him away. "Let go of Mommy!" He cried out when a heavy fist thudded into the side of his face, but he didn't bother trying to get up—Daddy had let go of Mommy and that was all that mattered. She gave a low, pitiful keen and made as if to pick him up, but Heiji grabbed her and pulled her back.

"Don't you dare," he warned. "Get in the bedroom." He threw her towards their bedroom door. "Now." She obeyed, and the click of the lock echoed in Yutou's head. Mommy couldn't help him. He was all alone. He tried not to shiver as his father's hand slowly ran the length of his cheekbone, though he did close his eyes and tuck his head towards his chest. "I can't believe you," the Voice hissed. "You think you can hide from me?" Rough hands jerked at his hair, pulling his head up as if he was about to have his throat cut. Yutou went obediently limp, although it hurt immensely to have so much strain on his scalp. "You think you can _hide_ from me, brat? Any other father would have put you out in the street by now. I never did that, did I?"

"Why, Daddy?" Yutou already knew the answer to the question, but he was expected to say it. How many thousands of times had he asked this? The answer was always the same.

"You're such a bad boy, I'm the only one who loves you enough to keep you." Yutou could have recited along with the Voice, but he'd done that once and the memory was enough to stop him. He settled on a vague nod and politely-downcast eyes.

"Thank you, Daddy."

"Maybe someday you'll be good, right Yutou? Someday."

Yutou nodded again, wincing at the pain in his scalp.

"But I have to teach you how to be good, don't I? If I punish you for being bad, you'll learn." Another pained nod. "I'm the only one that loves you enough to punish you."

Yutou's mind fuzzed out then, as it always did. He was only vaguely aware of the hands on him, ridding him of his clothing, and he didn't honestly care. He was used to this, it wasn't anything new. Daddy was right. He was bad. He deserved this.

Somehow he was in his own bed (he didn't remember Daddy picking him up, so he must have walked), and he stared blankly up at the stars painted on his ceiling. He loved stars, loved watching them at night. His father would laugh and ask what he expected them to do, but in truth, their serenity was what attracted him. The stars watched people scurrying around, going about their lives, but they never had to move. They were beautiful, majestic, regal, almost. He liked to think that when people died, they got to go live on the stars, and they too could watch the world as it carried on. Maybe someday, if he was ever good enough, he would be up there, watching.

He jumped slightly when demanding teeth closed on his lower lip, but he opened his mouth, just like he was expected to do, and a wet, insistent tongue forced its way down his throat. He frowned; he couldn't see the stars anymore. So he settled for closing his eyes as his father's weight settled over him. He winced a little when his father entered him—it hurt, but he knew he wouldn't properly feel in until later, when Daddy had finished and gotten dressed and left Yutou to hug himself and try not to cry from the pain.

He was so tired…but the bed was creaking now, and he couldn't fall asleep, not with the way he was rocking back and forth with the force of the thrusts. He tried, yes, but every time he was just about to drift off, Daddy would do something that hurt so badly it jolted him back to reality. Sharp teeth bit at his neck and Yutou scowled; he really didn't want to have to wear his collar completely buttoned tomorrow, it was getting too hot for that. But he would anyways, because the last thing he wanted to do was to get Daddy in trouble.

His father shuddered and groaned out something that might have been his name, and Yutou smiled. He was done—finally!—and Yutou would go to sleep. "Good night," Heiji whispered, and it was him again, not the Voice. Soft fingers stroked his cheek and he leaned over to press a kiss to his son's forehead. "I love you, Yutou. You've been very good."

"Thank you, Daddy," Yutou said with a yawn. Heiji bent over and picked up Yutou's well-loved stuffed rabbit and handed it to him. Yutou accepted the bunny with a grateful grin and nestled into his pillows. Heiji pulled the covers up over him and patted him on the shoulder before he left. "Good night," Yutou murmured, eyes sliding closed. "I love you, Daddy."

(A/N: Did I just write that? Man, was that f-ed up. (sighs))

He'd been thirteen before he realized that something in his life wasn't normal. He'd always hidden the marks; he didn't know why, it was just something Daddy wanted him to do, and Yutou didn't question Daddy anymore. He knew better. It had been a warm spring day and his class had been jogging around the field when—

"Damn, Kamimura! What happened to your neck?" It was Shoji, a tall, black-haired boy Yutou had never liked. He took every chance he could to torture Yutou; he'd play on the boy's quiet nature and fear of other people in minor ways, little things that no teacher would ever give him detention for, but it was enough to scare Yutou out of his wits. He'd never complained, but it seemed like Shoji knew, knew how badly he frightened Yutou, and he relished in it.

Yutou slid his hand along the back of his neck and blushed where he felt raised teeth marks and furious chafing left behind by last night's punishments. He couldn't wear a turtleneck in this weather, and he'd already skipped P.E. so many times this year that he was in danger of getting his first C on his report card. If he'd missed a class, Daddy would have gotten mad at the low grade—either way, Yutou couldn't win. "N-nothing," he stammered, dropping his gaze down to his sneakers. The shorts were too short for him to feel comfortable in, reminded him too much of the outfits he was supposed to wear around the house when Daddy's friends were over, because Daddy liked showing him off. He stared at his long legs and wondered why Daddy's friends always commented on how pretty he was. He didn't think he was pretty, he was ugly. Ugly and dirty.

"Yeah, right," Shoji laughed, slinging an arm around Yutou. Yutou flinched automatically and Shoji's grin widened. "You got yourself a girlfriend, blondie?" He snickered and flicked a lock of Yutou's sandy-blonde hair away from his face. "Or maybe a boyfriend?"

Yutou pulled away, cheeks blazing crimson. "Please don't touch me," he whispered quietly. "You're not allowed to do that."

Shoji gave him a mock-hurt look. "Oh, but you're just so cute." He tugged on Yutou's wrist, and before the blonde could react, strong arms were wrapped around the small of his back, pressing his hips into Shoji's thighs. "I can't help touching you." He slid his hand over the back of Yutou's neck and smirked. "Tell me what happened, koi. Every—last—detail—" he punctuated each word by rolling his hips against Yutou's and the blonde cowered away, flinging his arms up over his head.

"Stop it!"

Shoji shot a glance at his friends, three boys all as tall (or taller) as him, but Yutou couldn't for the life of him remember their names. "Yutou's shy," he said in a childlike voice. "Poor baby doesn't want us to know what he was doing last night."

"Please stop it," Yutou whimpered, dropping his head.

"Fight me, if you're so disgusted!" Shoji planted both hands firmly on Yutou's shoulders and the smaller blonde boy fell back on his ass with a yelp. "C'mon, wimp! Stand up for yourself!"

"I hate this kind of joking," Yutou pleaded. "Please, just leave me alone! I didn't do anything to you!" Shoji raised a fist and Yutou ducked, although the black-haired boy hadn't taken a swing.

"Tell me where you got the hickey and I won't smash your face in, how about that?" He faked another punch and Yutou cringed.

"Stop it!"

"Are you going to tell me?" A real kick this time, right to the soft part of his stomach. Yutou retched and curled into a ball.

"I don't want to!"

Another kick. "Stop!"

"Tell me, koi. Tell me where you got the hickey." Kick.

"My dad! My dad gave it to me, alright? Stop kicking me!"

The kicks stopped and Yutou curled into a tighter ball, blushing miserably. Shoji was laughing. He chanced a glance up—no, wait. Shoji's friends were laughing. Shoji was staring down at him with a mix between shock and horror spreading across his face. "Stop it, assholes," Shoji snapped at his friends, and they did. "I don't think he's kidding." He crouched down next to Yutou. "You're not serious, are you? Your _dad_ gave you that?"

Yutou nodded and buried his face in the crook of his elbow.

"That's sick."

Yutou gave a pitiful sob and shrunk further away from Shoji. "Just…just go away, alright? I'm _not_ sick, don't judge me."

"No, I didn't mean you…your dad. Your dad's sick."

"What?"

No one had ever told him that before. No one had ever blamed his father, and it took him completely by surprise. His father's fault? That didn't make sense…did it?

No, no, it was him, it had to be. He was bad, that's why he had to be punished. He was a bad boy. He whimpered and tucked his head between his arms again. "Go away," he pleaded. "I told you, now go away." Bad, bad, _bad_. He'd told. Yutou let out a fresh moan and tried to curl up tighter. He was in trouble. Bad, bad, bad.

"What's going on over here? Are you picking on Kamimura again?" Yutou couldn't chance a glance up, but he recognized the PE teacher's voice and heard Shoji's hair swish against his cheek as he shook his head.

"Nah, coach. He's sick, I think. Can I take him to the nurse's office?"

"What's wrong?" The teacher put a hand on Yutou's shoulder and he screamed, jerking away so violently that he landed in Shoji's arms. He buried his face in Shoji's chest, because the warmth was all he cared about right now, he was so terrified. "Is he alright?"

"He'll be fine. Can I take him to the nurse's office?"

"Ah…sure, that sounds like a good idea…"

Shoji nodded and stood up, pulling Yutou with him. "C'mon," he said. "We're leaving."

"I don't want to," Yutou whispered. "I don't want to go anywhere with you."

"I'm not that bad, am I?" Shoji asked lightly.

Yutou made no reply, just hung his head and walked alongside Shoji silently, wishing he hadn't said what he had. His cheeks were crimson with shame, his heart was pounding, and he was trembling. Shoji made no mention of it, however, not until—

"Why did you stop them?"

"Hunh?" Shoji looked down at Yutou, and for the first time Yutou noticed how extraordinarily tall he was. "Stop who?"

"Your friends. You stopped them from laughing at me."

Shoji shrugged. "Things like that aren't funny. They're not my friends, anyways. They're people my parents expect me to hang out with."

"What do you mean?"

"Ah, y'know. Rich kids. Upper-class snobs." Shoji grinned at him. "I'd like to see their reaction if I took _you _home."

Yutou bristled. "I'm not poor."

"You obviously haven't met my parents. If you don't have your own yacht, you're poor. Don't worry about that, though—you're nice, they'll like you."

"What?"

"I know I've been a jerk and all," Shoji began, looking uncomfortable. He stopped and turned to face Yutou. "But, y'know, I just couldn't get you out of my head. And you're so withdrawn, I thought that was the only way to bring you out of your shell. I like you."

"L-like me?" Yutou flushed. "What do you mean, like me?"

"You're beautiful," Shoji mumbled, trailing his fingers down the side of Yutou's face. "You remember when I transferred here from Osaka? You were the first person I noticed, with that hair of yours, and those eyes…I thought you were the prettiest girl in the class. Of course—" he laughed "—then I realized you were a guy, and…well…let's just say you're the one that convinced me I'm gay."

"Don't change anything for me," Yutou whispered. "Please, I don't…you're…I'm not…" He clutched his pounding heart and stared down at his shoes. "I'm not worth all that. What would happen if your parents found out?"

"Then they'd scream and rant and throw things." Shoji shrugged. "They won't care after a while."

"I can't." Yutou turned away. "I'm sorry, I can't."

"You're straight, aren't you?" Yutou glanced at Shoji and the naked terror on his face was heart-wrenching…it must have been so hard for him to say all that, not knowing if he would be rejected… "God, I'm sorry." He laughed wryly and ran a hand through his messy black hair. "I seem to have a knack for saying the wrong things. Let's just get you to the nurse, she'll let you lie down or something." He made a move, as if to leave, and Yutou grabbed hold of his sleeve. Shoji paused, looked down. "What is it?"

Blushing furiously and still not knowing quite what had come over him, Yutou wound his fingers into the soft hairs at the nape of Shoji's neck, went up on his tiptoes and pressed his lips gently to Shoji's. The taller boy stiffened in shock and Yutou jerked back. "No," he mumbled. "No, I'm not straight."

Shoji laughed. Yutou panicked, thinking that maybe all of this had been an elaborate scheme to humiliate him, and he looked around desperately for somewhere to hide, or maybe to see if Shoji's friends had been watching. But the hallway was completely empty, and Yutou couldn't for the life of him imagine where Shoji could hide a tape recorder in that uniform. Shoji was down on the ground, knees pulled to his chest, giggling insanely and it wasn't malicious laughter, he seemed…relieved. "God," he managed, after a few minutes of this. "Do you know how long I've wanted to hear that from you?" He burst into a fresh fit of giggles and Yutou, in spite of himself, found himself sitting across from Shoji, chuckling. And then all of a sudden the amusement was gone, because Shoji had pulled Yutou into his arms and kissed him—not a gentle kiss but a pleading, demanding kiss than made Yutou's insides turn to ice. He whimpered into Shoji's mouth and went obediently limp in his arms—surely he wouldn't…not here, not now…

"I'm sorry. I'll take it slow." Shoji broke the kiss and buried his face in Yutou's hair. "We won't do anything you don't want, okay? I'll take care of you. I promise."

Take care of him? Shoji didn't…didn't…oh, this was too confusing. What did Shoji want? Yutou hadn't ever had to deal with anyone but his father, he didn't know what to expect from this new intrusion into his routine.

And Shoji never failed to surprise him. They became friends quickly, although Yutou never quite understood what Shoji saw in a skinny, underfed boy with enough emotional problems to drive any therapist crazy. But Shoji never made any indication that he minded being around Yutou—he was affectionate and kind and funny, and before Yutou knew quite what was happening, he'd fallen in love with his former tormentor.

Yutou had never been in love, but he'd also never had a friend, a confidante he could trust, and he sometimes wondered if what he was feeling was really love or if he'd just grown attached to the idea of someone caring for him. He didn't like to think that, but sometimes he couldn't help it…although the way it felt when Shoji kissed him had absolutely nothing to do with friendship, he was fairly certain of that.

They avoided Yutou's house, preferring the spacious solitude of Shoji's…well, _manor_, Yutou couldn't think of anything else to call it. It was enormous, and Shoji's parents were very rarely home, so they'd spend their time lounging on the couch watching TV or curl up on Shoji's bed and talk. It didn't matter, every moment away from home was bliss to Yutou. At least that was what he'd thought in the beginning…after a while, he began to realize that it wasn't being away from his father than made him happy, it was being with Shoji. And it scared him sometimes, how safe he felt with the black-haired boy.

Then, about five months after the two had begun their odd relationship, Shoji got detention for fighting with another student. Now, Shoji wasn't naturally violent, but he _did_ have a bit of a temper where Yutou was concerned, and the boy he'd fought had been making passes at Yutou. Needless to say, this made Shoji rather unhappy, and before Yutou had been able to stop him, Shoji had hurled himself at the other boy and began pummeling him.

It frightened Yutou, to see how violent Shoji was capable of being. He supposed it should mean something that the violence had all been to protect him, but all he could see while he walked dazedly back to his house was the rage on Shoji's face, the way he bared his teeth and snarled like an animal. Yutou repressed a shiver; he hoped he never incurred Shoji's wrath. He was scary.

"Hey. Yutou, right? C'mere a minute, I need to talk to you." Yutou's head snapped up. Someone was talking to him? Yes, there he was. One of Shoji's acquaintances, but Yutou didn't know him very well. He was a little shorter than Shoji but still at least a head taller than Yutou, with bleached hair and a wolf-like smile. He was surrounded by more of Shoji's nameless friends, but they were all smiling at him. Friendly, Yutou thought.

"Me?" Yutou asked.

"Yeah. C'mere." The middle boy gestured to him and Yutou obediently trotted over to where the bleach-blonde was leaning against the alley wall. "It's about Shoji."

"What about him?"

"You two are dating, right?"

Yutou knew his cheeks were bright red, but he shook his head frantically. "No, nothing like that. Just friends."

"That's not what he said. I thought he was lying, you know, landing a pretty thing like you." Yutou ducked his head, embarrassed. Had Shoji really told them? He wasn't sure how he felt about that—somewhere between horror and pride, he supposed. "Hey, relax. I know Shoji's gay, it doesn't matter. I just thought I'd ask you myself." He glanced at a brunette next to him. "I told you Shoji was lying. There's no way Yutou would date trash like that."

"He's not trash!" The words were out of Yutou's mouth before he could stop them; how dare they insult Shoji! "And he's not lying! We _are_ dating, and I think he's beautiful, so you can just—" he stopped. Something was wrong. The blonde was smiling again—no, not smiling. Leering. At him. Arms shot out and grabbed him around the wrists, wresting his arms behind his back and the blonde cupped Yutou's cheek with a manicured hand.

"You're so easy to play, Yutou. Shoji didn't tell me a thing." Yutou whimpered and tried to turn away but the grip on his jaw tightened until close-cut fingernails were digging into his face, not enough to break skin but enough to hurt. "Shoji _hates_ me." Yutou thought Shoji was a good judge of character; he didn't like the way the blonde was looking at him. "He's pretty, isn't he? You said it yourself." Yutou nodded dumbly, not trusting himself to speak. "And if you hadn't gotten in my way, he'd be mine."

"In your way?"

"I've wanted him longer than you've even known he existed, whore. And you're going to take his place, how about that? We wouldn't want Shoji getting hurt, now would we?" Yutou shook his head.

He wanted to fight, he really did. But years of being trained to lie still and take it, of being ordered to stay silent and be good, well…Yutou was paralyzed and he couldn't so much as cry, let alone fight the boys off of him. He could feel his mind blanking out, retreating into its own reality and he let it—he didn't want to think about what the boys were doing to him, about the way they laughed when his body responded to theirs. He didn't want to remember their eyes, their voices, the way their hands roamed his chest and held his legs apart and how much it _hurt_.

He closed his eyes and the boys were gone, and he could just barely feel what was happening. They weren't as bad as his father had been, and he guessed he was grateful for that. He didn't think he was bleeding, and none of them had hit him yet, so what was the problem? There wasn't one, he'd done this before. No use getting torn up about it, it was just the way things went with him. He smiled to himself, eliciting another wave of jeers from the boys and another stab of barely-there pain. This was okay, really, if it kept Shoji safe. He was alright with it.

The pain had stopped and he could hear fingers fumbling with zippers and belt buckles as his attackers cleaned themselves up. The blonde pried his hand open and stuffed something into it. Yutou, dazed, glanced down and saw his fingers curled around a twenty-dollar bill—American money. "For services rendered," the blonde whispered, kissing him for the first time since their encounter had started. He got up, brushed the dirt off of his knees and turned to leave. "You'd better clean yourself up, whore."

Yutou lay there staring up at the sky for a good ten minutes before he felt okay enough to move. He pulled his pants back up around his hips and looked around for his shirt and jacket—there they were, over on the other side of the alley. At least his clothes had remained unscathed, for the most part. Just dirt, nothing a good washing wouldn't cure.

He pushed himself to his feet, wincing a little at the ache in his ass, and began the slow trek home. Every step stung, but fortunately he wasn't _too_ far away from his house. His hand was beginning to ache—he still had the money, he realized. Hm. Twenty bucks for ten minutes, that wasn't bad at all.

"Where the hell have you been?" Yutou closed the door behind him, stuffing the money in his pocket. His father had a suitcase under one arm, his briefcase under the other, and Yutou's blood went cold—was he leaving? "Your mother's in the hospital," he snapped in reply to Yutou's questioning glance. "Nervous breakdown. It's your fault, boy. If you didn't worry her so much—"

"Is she going to be okay?"

"I don't know, but she's running up a hell of a hospital bill. I don't know how we're gonna pay this one." He scrubbed a hand through his graying hair, suddenly looking old and worn-out. "You," he said, stabbing and finger in Yutou's direction "are going to start earning your keep around here. Food and board aren't free anymore. You're seventeen, you pay rent, you buy your own clothes, you pay for food. Got that?"

"But…school rules, they say I can't work."

"You find a way to get me that money or your mother's going to die, you hear me? If we can't pay for her bill, she'll die. Do you really want that on your conscience?"

"No," Yutou whispered, shaking his head. He pulled the money out of his pocket, stared at it for a few minutes, and then held it out to his father. "Here. It's all I have."

His father snatched it and gave him a suspicious look. "Where'd you get American money?" Yutou flushed and looked away. His father laughed and pocketed the money. "Well, I guess it doesn't matter. It's a good start, Yutou. I suppose you aren't completely worthless."

"Thank you," Yutou said dully. "I've got a lot of homework."

And with that anticlimactic conversation, Yutou's life went straight to hell. He'd never gotten any sort of reward for spreading his legs for his father, so he went to work, lounging on street corners, watching old men try not to stare at the lean, young body and pretty face. For the first time he understood why people said he was beautiful; dressed in leather, eyes darkened with kohl, lips painted with shimmering gloss, he felt needed, felt wanted. People would pay him outrageous amounts of money for him to share their bed—he could pay his father's rent and still have enough left over for clothes, books, video games, things he'd never been able to buy himself. He was saving to get a place of his own, away from drunken rapes and broken beer bottles. Away from Heiji.

He began to garner a reputation within a few months. He was adventurous, they said, willing to try anything and with an almost masochistic level of pain tolerance. Male, female, he'd do anything with money, it didn't matter to him. A whore with no inhibitions.

Of course, Shoji had found out.

Yutou cringed, curled up a little tighter with the memory of the disgust on Shoji's face—how could he explain this away? He couldn't and he didn't, and Shoji left. Walked out on him, disappeared, never spoke to him or wrote to him again. But Shoji had loved him, he'd told him that before he left. And there was no doubt Yutou had loved him—it tore him apart, losing Shoji like that. He couldn't mourn, it had been his own fault…his own fault he lost the one person who'd ever cared about him.

He staggered to the bathroom with the intent of washing the dried tears and sweat off of his face, maybe taking a shower. But he sopped dead when he met his reflection—his father stared back at him. The cold, dead eyes, the scowl, the handsome, tired face—oh God, he hated it. He hated himself, hated his own face, wanted himself dead. He wanted to die because he'd become his father, he'd done to another boy what had been done to him. He was just like Heiji.

Just like Heiji.

He roared and swung his fist into the glass. It didn't hurt, nothing could hurt as badly as he did inside. He deserved every mark, every gaping, bleeding wound. He'd as good as killed Seto, the poor boy—he was a monster, he didn't deserve to live anymore! And he was screaming, crying, beating the hell out of the mirror and slashing the hell out of his own body, reaching up with bloodied fingers to drag shards of glass along his own face and neck and shoulders while he howled like an animal and slowly ripped himself apart.

"Let this be the end," he whispered. "Please, just let this be the end."


	24. Always Watching You, Baby

Chapter Twenty-Four

To the review I received from mandapandabug: Uh…I _am_ an American. I didn't want to make it seem like I had anything against America, and actually, I had no part whatsoever in planning Bandit Keith's character, so you can't really blame that one on me. The reason I had the blonde boy give Yutou American dollars, was that I wanted to strike home how little Yutou thinks of himself, that he'll let someone rape him in exchange for twenty bucks. I figured the majority of my audience is either American or familiar with American money, and I don't think putting it in yen would have had quite the same effect. Sooo…yeah.

Ahahaha! I made you all like Yutou! And the reason I didn't do this as an original fic is that, well, it just wasn't really long enough, and people weren't getting what I'm trying to get across. And just what is that, you ask? (does Xelloss impression) Now _that_ is a secret!

Seto was gone. Totally, unexplainably gone. Even his yami didn't know quite why, only that the elder Kaiba hadn't wanted to live anymore, and so his consciousness had faded.

At least that was all Jonouchi had managed to grasp. He'd nearly passed out again upon hearing that, and with good reason. He was slumped in a chair, head in his hands, trying as hard as he could not to cry because it wasn't right, it wasn't fair that someone could just be _gone_ like that. And how cruel it was to leave Seth behind, a foreign spirit moving Seto's body in mannerisms that were completely alien to Jou. Jou couldn't help but resent Seth a little, just a little, for being sane while Seto was so fucked in the head that he couldn't handle living.

Which of course had nothing to do with the way he was glaring at Seth.

"Look," Seth said for at least the tenth time that day. "I said I was sorry. I'm a yami, I'm supposed to make my hikari happy. I had no idea he had a lover."

"It's really not his fault, Jou," Yami said in what Jou supposed was intended to be a comforting manner, but it just pissed him off even more. He growled and looked away. Yami hissed in frustration and, ignoring protests from his hikari, stalked over to Jou and grabbed a fistful of golden hair. "Oi," he said, tugging on the strands and jerking Jou's head up. "Did you hear me? It's not his fault. Now get off your ass and apologize to him."

"Sorry," Jou said sulkily, the very picture of a scolded child. Satisfied, Yami released his hold on Jou's hair, substituting a sort of affectionate petting. Jou sighed and leaned into the touch—the stress of the day was really beginning to wear at him

"Jou, you've been running all day. It's almost one in the morning. You get some sleep and then we'll see what we can do about getting Seto back."

oooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooo

"Hey, babe. Are you feeling any better?" Marik pushed the bedroom door open, trying to balance a cup of hot tea at the same time. He was greeted with a lovely view of Malik's scarred back and a small whimper. Marik sighed and set the tea down on the bedside table. He sat on the edge of the bed and traced the wings carved over Malik's shoulder blades. "C'mon, Malik. Talk to me."

He hadn't really expected anything. Malik had been near-comatose the entire day, and Marik was fairly sure he hadn't slept. He'd refused to so much as look at Marik, and the closest to speech he'd come was the terrified screams he gave when Marik tried to clean his wounds. At least Marik had been able to get him mostly fixed up and into new clothes.

Still, it was achingly disappointing when his lover gave no indication that he'd even heard anything. He was moving at least, twisting handfuls of the sheets in a disturbingly methodical manner, as if there were an exact timing he had to follow. His violet eyes were intent on his own fingers.

"Malik," Marik sighed, flopping down onto the bed and coiling the thick blonde braid on the pillows where Malik was less likely to accidentally strangle himself with it. "Maaaaalik," Marik said again, kissing the back of his hikari's neck. "You can't stay in there forever." He wrapped an arm around Malik's slim waist and closed his eyes. "Come back, baby."

"I'm sorry," Malik whispered.

Marik sat bolt upright. "Malik?"

"I'm sorry I let him take me. I'm—God, Marik, I was so scared."

"I know," Marik said soothingly, stroking Malik's hair. "I know you were scared. It's okay."

"No it's not…Marik, with all this shit about Seto and Yutou going around…it's dragging up a lot of stuff I don't think I can deal with yet." Malik shivered, but he turned to face his yami, pleading violet eyes meeting sympathetic ones. "I mean, I know I don't have any right to compare myself to Seto, but—"

"Don't," Marik said, brushing a lock of hair out of Malik's face. "Don't do this 'Seto's-trauma-is-worse' thing. I was there, remember? Your father wasn't much better than Yutou."

"But…but he never…"

"Look, hikari," Marik said seriously. "Everyone has their own problems, and there's not a single person that can judge another. You don't know how it felt to be Seto, and he doesn't know how it felt to be you. You've been doing so good, hikari. I don't want this to put you back where you were."

Malik smiled tearily and took his yami's hand. "It won't."

"How can you know that?" Malik blinked at his yami; Marik's head was bowed, his eyes very deliberately avoiding Malik's own. "How can you be so sure you won't turn out like…like…"

"Seto?" Malik supplied. Marik flinched. "C'mon, tell me I've got a little more personality than that ice cube."

"I don't want you to hate me again," was all Marik said, and he very suddenly found himself with a lapful of rather amorous Malik.

"I could never," Malik said, nuzzling at his yami's throat, punctuating his words with occasional nibbles. "I love you, idiot. I got over all that a long time ago. I promise."

The phone, as it's always wont to do, interrupted this tender moment, and Marik was a little more violent with it than he normally would have been. "What the fuck do you want?"

"Whoa, good morning to you too, sunshine."

"What do you want, Pharaoh?"

"We need you and the Rod here. Now."

_Click._

Marik stared at the receiver. "Um…koi, I think you'd better get dressed."

oooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooo

It was ridiculous how clichéd this looked. Yami, bare-chested and bare-footed, legs spread in a stance that looked more like that of a warrior than a pharaoh, with the Rod held horizontally in front of him, eyes closed and lips moving in a silent prayer. He seemed more likely to summon a spirit than to split Seth and Seto, but, well, that was what he was supposed to do.

It made sense, Jou thought, it really did. By removing Seth's consciousness from Seto's body, it _should_ force Seto into control, solely based on the theory that a body couldn't function without a soul. Of course, Koto was a problem; he'd taken control of Seto before, when things got really bad, but Seth assured him that Koto was hidden even deeper than Seto was.

Jou wasn't sure how he felt about that. All three of them were more or less facets of Seto, Jou supposed. How could Jou love one and not the others? And what about the fact that every other yami and hikari he knew had wound up together? If they gave Seth his own body, would Jou be pushed out of the picture?

Jou leaned his chin on folded hands and closed his eyes. He didn't want to think about this, not now, but he was going to have to face it at some point. Could he really be so selfish as to refuse to allow this? Yami had given the decision over to him, an while Jou appreciated the gesture, he wasn't so sure he really _wanted_ to decide. He could be giving up the one person he'd ever truly loved, and…well…he wasn't sure he could do that.

But wasn't this the same choice Seto had faced, back in New York? To either let Jou go or face the risk of Yutou hurting him? And in the end Seto had sacrificed everything he could for Jou, even allowing Yutou to sleep with him, just to keep Jou safe. He'd protected Jou, even through he' never been able to protect himself…When he looked at it like that, what right did he have to stop this? It would be best for Seto, there was no doubt at all about that, and so he had to go through with it. Even if Seto left him.

Even if Seto fell in love with someone else.

Yami met Jou's eyes silently, asking permission, and Jou nodded once. Yes, he had to do this. For Seth, and for Seto. Yami smiled. "Thank you," he said quietly, so that only Jou could hear. "You don't know what it means to me to have my cousin back."

Jou could only manage a weak half-grin, heart pounding in his throat as his fingers tore holes in the seat of his chair. Nervous? Him? Please.

"Bakura?" Yami said, glancing at the tomb robber. Bakura jumped, shot Seth a guilty glance and stepped forward, uncharacteristically meek. His head was bowed, ice-blue eyes trained on his shoes as he took his place next to Yami and untied the Ring from around his neck. He set it on the floor and fished in his pocket for the Eye, which he leaned against the Ring, so it wouldn't roll away. Yami nodded regally at Bakura and the tomb robber slunk back to his seat next to Ryou.

"Marik?" It was unnecessary, as the tomb keeper had begun crossing the room the moment Bakura was dismissed, but Yami had always been the type to stand on ceremony. The former tomb keeper rested a hand on the Rod briefly and then knelt on the floor to unwrap his bulky packages. First came the Scales, followed by the Key. Marik shrugged his shoulders at his friends' questioning looks.

"Shadi's dating Malik's sister," he said. "He loaned them to me."

Yami was last, setting down his puzzle and Isis's Tauk among the pile of Sennen Items. The Rod stayed in his hands, however, and at Yami's nod, Seth knelt before his Pharaoh.

It was time.

ooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooo

_Warm and whispersoft and so, so calm…he loved it here. Here, where he could feel nothing but gently pulsing heat and hear nothing but the soft thump of his own heart, to which he timed each shallow breath. Here, curled up with his head on his knees and his arms wrapped around himself, nothing could touch him_

_Here, at least, he was safe._

_Outside…there were bad things out there. War and drugs and sex and people only out for themselves, and he didn't want that life. People hurt each other too easily; it was better here, where he was the only one, and he could barely remember his own name._

_No, he couldn't even remember that. It really should have bothered him, but nothing did anymore. Everything before now was gone, save for a few images of a laughing blonde and a little black-haired boy with huge gray eyes and he wondered who they were, if he'd ever known them or if maybe they were memories of the walls surrounding him. Maybe they'd come here too, come here and lived in peace and tranquility until they quietly drifted away to whatever came next._

_He had this feeling that the memories were his, though. There was something he should have known about them, because he remembered the blonde touching him gently, remembered the little black-haired boy's laugh but it didn't really matter anymore. Even if he'd known them once, he didn't anymore._

Pain

_Sharp, flaring pain in every cell of his body, he was thrashing and the walls around him were shaking with his trembles; what was going on?_

_Nothing could touch him here, nothing could—_

PainpainpainPAIN, Oh God, it hurt, hurt like needles and glass and metal and blood and all those bad things, everything he'd wanted to forget was tearing into him at once and he _screamed_, long and loud and terrified, crying for help from someone, anyone, but he was hopelessly, desperately alone.

He gritted his teeth and curled up into himself, clutching his knees so tightly that every joint ached, so tightly that he couldn't feel his own fingers anymore, but what did it matter because he was dying, he had to be dying, because there wasn't anything in his little self-created world that could be this agonizing, this horrible. Nothing could hurt him anymore, nothing…he was crying, but the tears evaporated on his cheeks because every vein was flooded with liquid flame and he was burning alive.

"Seto…"

The voice lanced through the agony, straight into his mind and he paused, even though he could barely see straight. Someone was…was calling him? Was that his name? Yes, it was, he was Seto. He remembered that voice, a rich, silky tenor, remembered it from…Jou…Jonouchi? Yes, yes that was it…

"Seto, come back…"

No! No, he couldn't, he didn't want to! He didn't want to live anymore, he didn't want that world where people existed only to tear each other apart. He hated it, he hated them, he hated himself for being so weak and so helpless and he wouldn't go back! He wouldn't!

"Seto-baby…" a new voice now, a woman's voice, and all of a sudden Seto didn't hurt quite so much anymore. There were cool hands on his back, encircling him and hugging him to a lithe, warm, gentle body, soothing away the flames, soothing the pain and he could breathe again, see again—

"Seto-baby, you can't hide…" A face nuzzled the back of his neck affectionately and the arms tightened around him but he didn't panic, it didn't scare him. No, he liked it, he liked being held like this, almost as if he were a child again. "You have to keep living, baby. Don't do this to yourself."

Seto glanced down at the arms across his chest, pale and slim and perfect, with tiny hands that clutched at his skin. He touched the right hand, afraid that it might vanish and the pain would all come rushing back. The skin was so soft in comparison to his own rough hands—he'd never thought of them as such before—and it had to be a woman's skin. He tried to turn around, but the figure holding him had her head bowed, and all he could see was a gently-rippling wave of coal-black hair, just like…just like Mokuba's.

"M…mother?"

"Seto-baby…" She looked up at him with warm blue eyes, eyes the same colour as his own and skin that he knew from personal experience burned, but never tanned. She was more beautiful than he remembered, all pearl-white and smoky black with a sad, wistful smile that tugged at a memory of when he was small and used to curl up in her arms while she sang to him.

"Mom…"

"Oh, honey," she said, pulling him towards her so he could rest his head on her breast and stroking his hair. "Honey, don't do this. Don't hide away from everything."

"It hurts," he whispered, closing his eyes against inevitable tears. "It hurts, so badly…"

"I know, baby, I know."

"I…God, Mom, I wish you were still here."

"I am here, Seto. I'm always here. Always watching you, baby."

"I don't want to go back to Yutou. I can't handle being around him anymore, Mom. Everything's all broken, and I don't know what to do."

"You live, sweetheart. You hold your chin up high and never let anyone make you feel ashamed of yourself and you _live_." Her small fingers were under his jaw, tilting his head up until she could stare into her son's eyes. "Yutou's just like you, honey. He's only a man."

"I know," Seto said, wrapping his fingers around her slender wrist. "I know he's only a man, but…"

"But nothing. You can hate what he did to you, and you can spend the rest of your life running from that. But sweetheart, nothing you can do will change what happened. The only thing you can do now is go forward from here. Remember, baby, the future is always under your control, so don't dwell so much on the past."

Seto buried his face in his mother's chest. "I miss you."

"I miss you too. I always will." Ghost-lips brushed his cheek and Seto could feel the tears spilling down his face as he clung to his mother for dear life. "I love you, Seto. I love you and I want you to live. It's time to wake up now."

Seto nodded. "Bye, Mom."

"Goodbye, baby."

oooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooo

(A/N: Gah, I just made myself tear up with that one. I wanna draw a picture of Seto and his mommy now. I think I will.)

oooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooo

Something was wrong, and everyone was screaming all at once, everyone but Jou, who could only sit there and clutch at Seto's hand pitifully. Seto…yes, it was Seto, because the other body that had just erupted from this one was deeply tanned with auburn-chestnut hair that Jou didn't recognize. Seth was stirring, trying to grab for his hikari but he didn't seem to be able to see anything. His hands were laved with small cuts and bruises from flailing helplessly at the bedposts, and Bakura was holding him back while Jou sat there quietly and waited for Seto to breathe.

See, it had been ten minutes already, ten minutes since the explosion of light and that horrendous howl of agony, and Seto hadn't taken a breath. His heart wasn't beating (Jou knew because he had a hand on Seto's chest), but Jou wasn't worried. Seto was fine. He had to be fine. It had worked for Yami and Marik and Bakura and _why_ wasn't his lover breathing? Tears trickled silently down his cheeks as he stroked Seto's palm with his thumb and waited. "Please breathe," Jou whispered, and he could faintly hear Yuugi crying, calling to him, telling him that Seto was dead, that he should let go, but it didn't quite register with Jou. "Come on, babe, just breathe for me."

"Jou, please," Yuugi sobbed, tugging on his friend's sleeve. "Please, he's dead. Let him go, he'll drag you down with him."

Jou turned mad, blank copper eyes on Yuugi and the hikari stumbled back, nauseated by the sad, dead smile on his best friend's face. "Jou," he keened, turning into Yami's embrace and burying his head in his lover's chest. "My God, Yami, there's nothing there. What happened to him?"

"He's with Seto," Yami whispered. "Shh, he's with Seto…"

Jou resumed his methodical stroking. "Breathe," he said again, but it was flat, empty, devoid of inflection. Jou's soul was gone, gone inside Seto's cold body, and Yuugi was going to be sick. He retched, turning away from Jou's vacant smile.

"My God…oh my God…"

"Hikari?" Seth asked pitifully, groping about for something, anything to hold onto because he couldn't see, couldn't so much as control his motor functions, and he wasn't entirely certain that his words were even coming out as recognizable Japanese. "Hikari, where are you? What's wrong?" No, there was no way anyone would be able to understand that, _he_ didn't even understand that. He growled in frustration and tried to wiggle away from the firm grip on his shoulders with a mournful cry. "Hikariiiiii…"

"Ryou, c'mere and help me," Bakura said, trying to pin Seth down without hurting him. "He's lost it!" Ryou knelt in front of the confused yami, taking both his hands to stop him from injuring himself anymore.

Ryou stared him down, straight into unfocused blue eyes, although he knew the yami couldn't see him. "Your hikari's dead, Seth, you can't do anything anymore." Tears clouded Ryou's chocolate brown eyes as he watched the impact his words had had on the distraught Egyptian, watched Seth's face crumple as he slumped in Bakura's arms. "I'm so sorry, Seth," Ryou said, still holding his hands tightly. "I'm so, so sorry…"

"Nuuu," was all Seth managed to choke out. "Kari…kariiii!" He gave a long, animalistic howl.

And then there was a sudden gasp, a strain to draw oxygen into deflated lungs and Seto jerked up in his seat with a vehement "Fuck!"

"Kari!" Seth began struggling again and Bakura released him with a helpless sigh. Seth managed to stumble close enough to the bed to fall into Seto's lap and hug his hikari tightly before Jou launched himself at both of them. "Karikarikarikarikari…."

And before long, the entire room had piled itself onto Seto's bed, laughing and hugging and grateful to be alive. They didn't know how, didn't know why, but none of that mattered. They were all here, all breathing, and that was all they cared about. Together again, alive again, and maybe this time everything would be okay.

ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooo

He wasn't dead. He wasn't dead, wasn't dead, wasn't _dead_. He screamed and swung his fist into the battered wall and it didn't hurt, he couldn't feel it. His whole body was numb, cold, and that probably wasn't a good thing, but he was still alive! He was alive when he didn't want to be, it wasn't fair.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, dropping to his knees in the middle of his bedroom, staring up at the ceiling blankly. "I'm so sorry, Shoji."

And he was, _God_ was he sorry. He'd been sorry since the minute he saw the crushing disappointment on Shoji's face when he found out, sorry since the first time Daddy told him he was worthless, sorry since he day he was born. Why had he _been_ born, if all he did was hurt those around him? What was the point of his existing anymore?

He'd as good as killed Seto, he'd _raped_ him, and that was somehow so much worse. Because if he'd killed Seto, then the poor boy wouldn't have had to live with this the rest of his life. He would have been dead and gone, and he wouldn't be so fucked in the head that he didn't want to live anymore. No matter how he looked at it, it was all Yutou's fault.

So worthless, so pathetic…Yutou curled up into a ball in the middle of the floor and began, softly, to cry.

Gah! I'm sosososososososooooooo sorry this took so long! And it's pitifully short! bows I'm sorry, minna-sannnn! But, but, but….look! Seto's back!


	25. Hospitals and SelfLoathing

1Chapter Twenty-Five

I don't want you to like Yutou. That was never my aim. I'm not condoning any of his actions; they were wrong, certainly. I simply want you to understand him, to understand that people aren't inherently evil, that something happens to make them the way they are. Everyone's a product of their past, like it or not.

All Seto could hear was Jou's ecstatic babbling and someone chanting what sounded like a slurred "hikari" over and over again while questioning hands roamed his face and shoulders like the hands of a child, or of a blind man. And he was laughing, smiling like he never had before, because all of a sudden he could feel, and he realized just what he would have been giving up if he'd…if he'd stayed the way he was.

It was hard to believe, here in this room, surrounded by his friends, people he loved, that he would have ever wanted that. To never feel again, to be dead to the world. Would it have been worth it? He shuddered as he clamped a hand over the ugly scar below his navel. Jou, in either an act of extreme insensitivity or incredible intuition, pulled his hand away and kissed the palm, tracing spirals on the inside of Seto's slender wrist.

"Karikarikariiii…" Soft lips on his throat, nuzzling under his chin like a kitten, and Seto was staring down at hair he'd never seen before. "Kari…" It was pretty, a striking, almost unnatural auburn colour, and soft when Seto rested a hand on the top of the head. And when the face titled up to his, he couldn't stifle his cry.

"The hell?" He shoved the _thing_ off him and scrambled back, away from the tangle of arms and legs that struggled to sort itself into his friends. "What the _fuck_ is that thing, and why dos it have my face?"

'That thing' blinked sadly at him and reached for him, but despite its best efforts, didn't seem to be able to hold onto him. It gave a low, keening cry and tried again, but its elbows buckled beneath it and it collapsed face-first on the bed, yelping in surprise. Yami slid his hands under its arms and pulled it upright, brushing reddish hair out of blank china-blue eyes. "This is Seth," Yami said quietly, stroking its hair until it nuzzled at Yami's throat, like a child in desperate need of attention.

"Why's he—what's wrong wit' 'im?" Jou asked, still clenching Seto's hand in his own. "He wasn' like that before, what happened?"

"We all went through this," Marik said with a sympathetic glance at the former high priest. "He's completely unused to the motor skills in his new body. He can't see anything, and he can't control his movements very well, but he should be okay in about a week."

"So what, we treat him like an oversized kitten for a week?" Yami flushed and pried Seth away from where he was blindly fumbling at Yami's shirt.

"I don't see that you have much choice."

oooooooOOOOOOOOooooooooo

"Hey, I think he's dead."

"Don't be stupid, he's breathing, isn't he?" A sharp voice, a woman's voice, and it made Yutou wince, driving straight into the heart of his headache. He groaned, reaching one hand up to shield his eyes from the harsh florescent lights of the hallway and wondered dimly how he'd gotten here.

"Wha..." His tongue was thick in his mouth and he blinked dazedly at the figures around him, watching as they slid in and out of focus. There was quite a lot of golden hair and large purple eyes staring straight at him.

"Are you alright?" He shook his head and blinked again, squinting into the lights. "We're getting you to a hospital."

"No," he whispered, hauling himself upright and supporting himself on shaking elbows. "Fuck you, _no_."

"Excuse me?" It _was_ a woman, an extremely pretty blonde with a body any girl would have envied and the clothes to show it off. She looked vaguely familiar, although with his mind half-fuzzed out, he couldn't quite remember where he'd met her.

"Leave me here," he croaked. "Please, leave me here."

She scowled at him. "Do you _want_ to die? 'Cause after losing this much blood, you're going to if I don't get you help."

"Yes."

"Well, that settles it." She pulled a cell phone out of her pocket and stabbed in the emergency number. "Sorry, not today."

The spiky-haired man next to her gave him a pitying glance. "Hey, Mai, maybe we should listen to him. I mean, he's probably got a good reason–"

"Don't give me any of your bleeding-heart psychotherapy shit. I'm _so_ glad you didn't become a psychologist. He needs help and he's getting it, Varon. This isn't open for discussion."

With all the energy left in his body, he reached out and grabbed hold of her ankle. "Please don't...I don't want help..."

"Too late. Yes, I need an ambulance–"

ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooo

Otogi snagged the phone before it could wake Mokuba up. The younger Kaiba was curled up like a cat on his lap, fast asleep–it had been a rough day for all of them, and Otogi was fairly certain he was the only one awake. 'Course, it was almost seven in the morning...he would never be able to sleep, not with the sunlight streaming through the curtains.

They were all in Seto's room still, dozing on his over-large bed and on the couches, in chairs and on the floor. No one wanted to be separated, not tonight, not after everything that had happened. Otogi could understand that–it was almost as if it were too good to be true, everything was finally over...

"Hello?" he whispered and the boy in his lap gave a displeased moan and snuggled deeper into his stomach.

"Otogi? What're you doing at Kaiba's house?"

"I _was_ sleeping. What're you doing calling Kaiba's house?"

"I ran into someone in my apartment building today. Tripped over him, actually, and he was pretty badly beaten up. I got him to the hospital, and the only thing I could get out of him was Kaiba's name."

A cold dread settled into Otogi's stomach. Damn it.

"Did you get his name?"

"No," Mai said. "He's pretty messed up though, his face is all slashed and–" Otogi could hear her shudder. "It's bad, Otogi. I couldn't just leave him there."

He scrubbed a frustrated hand through his hair. "I know," he said. "I know you couldn't, but...damn, Mai, Seto doesn't need this right now."

"Too bad," she said with an edge to her voice that Otogi was all too used to. "This guy needs _him_." And then she hung up, leaving Otogi with a buzzing phone and a pounding headache.

"Time to rouse the troops," he muttered to himself as he shook Mokuba's shoulder. "Hey, wake up. We've gotta get to the hospital."

oooooOOOOooooooooo

The first thing Yutou noticed was that he was alive.

Despite his best efforts, here he was, breathing and staring up at a florescent light that was too damn bright for its own good. His entire body ached, his head felt as if it was being crushed, and he was tied down.

There was a moment of panic as the helplessness roiled through him and he cringed against the memories, but they passed as quickly as they had come, almost as if they were bored with tormenting him after so long playing with his sanity. He was grateful, he supposed, as he struggled to keep a rein on his breathing.

No, he thought, checking his wrists and ankles. Not tied, strapped, because this was a hospital, and they couldn't make anything easy for him. Rope he could have gotten out of, but not these fucking _buckles_. He wriggled a little, only succeeding in sending lances of white-hot pain into every nerve ending.

He was stitched and bandaged all over–his face was a mass of band-aids and gauze pads, and from what he could see, the more severe wounds on his torso had been closed, turning his body into a Frankenstein-like tapestry of sutures. Had he been able to move, he would have ripped them all out–he deserved the pain.

He eyed the slumped figure in the plastic chair next to his bed. He'd never seen him before, hadn't even noticed he was here until he gave a loud snort and flopped his head to the other side. Who was he? Yutou furrowed his brow and tried to remember if he'd ever seen the man before, but the face didn't look familiar, and he doubted he could have forgotten that hair.

Okay. Calm. There had to be a good reason he was strapped to a bed with a strange man in the room. There had to be, right? Because if...if someone was planning...well, they wouldn't have bandaged him up, right? So that meant everything was going to be okay.

If only he could move!

The door opened then and his head snapped around, every muscle tense. Of course, there wasn't much he could actually _do_, seeing as he wasn't really able to even sit up, let alone run or defend himself. But he breathed a little easier when the figure stepped into the room and he realized it was a woman.

Women always went easy on him. For most, violence just wasn't in their nature–all they saw in him was a lost, scared little boy, not something to abuse. And yeah, he was being stereotypical, but he didn't care–he could count the number of women he'd had that actually _hurt_ him on one hand, and when compared to the men...well, it was a shame he wasn't straight.

She was pretty, even he could tell that. It was easier to see now, with nothing obscuring his vision. She had a sweet, kind face, and although her eyes were sharp, there was a spark of something in them that made him relax and drop his head back down to the pillow. Something like kindness, pity maybe, and while that normally would have made his pride prickle, it wasn't a condescending sort of pity. Long golden hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she'd changed out of the outfit he remembered from earlier into jeans and a soft grey T-shirt. She smiled in response to his questioning look.

"You got blood all over my other clothes."

He looked away. Worse and worse–he just kept on being an inconvenience, didn't he? Why the hell had she saved him? She obviously didn't know who he was. If she had, she'd have saved him the trouble and killed him herself.

She should have.

"I'm sorry," he muttered.

"For what? You couldn't help bleeding."

"For making you come all the way out to the hospital."

"You were dying." She gave him a bewildered look and sat down on the foot of his bed. "It's not a problem, really." She held out a slim, manicured hand. "I'm Kujaku Mai." And then she realized he couldn't shake, looked startled and withdrew it quickly.

He didn't really want to look at her. He hadn't wanted anyone to see him like this, why had he staggered out into that damn hallway in the first place? He couldn't remember, everything had been all fuzzed out with pain and blood and that awful _noise_ banging around in his head and telling him to let go.

"Why did you do this?" Her fingers were on his arm and he bit his lip. It hurt, but he had no right to complain. How many times had he watched Seto sitting gingerly in his chair, wincing as he tried not to jostle the bruises Yutou had given him? How many times had the boy worn long sleeves in summer, to hide the marks? Too many times, too many times for a child to have to pretend everything was okay. It wasn't fair. Why was he alive?

"I deserved it," he said simply.

"No one deserves death."

He met her eyes then, and his hazel orbs were so cold, so dead, that she almost believed for a second that maybe she'd done him a disservice by saving him. "I do," was all he said.

"What have you done that's so terrible?"

He laughed, and it wasn't a happy laugh by any means. It made her skin crawl, all cynical and self-depraving and twisted. "I raped the person I love."

Ooh, there it was.

He'd never said it out loud before, had he? Never even let himself think it–he didn't know how to love. Just look at Shoji, the poor man, he'd given his heart to Yutou, only to have it broken and thrown back at him. But he did, in his own sick, twisted way, care for Seto. Love, he wasn't really sure–the kid meant a lot to him, but...

Fury and then disgust passed over her face, but she was right. He was sick, he was disgusting. Look at what he'd _done_!

"Oh, and this is the best part–he was only fourteen when I did it." He laughed again and turned his head to the side so he didn't have to see her face and she didn't have to see his. "So why the hell did you save me?"

"After that," she said stiffly, "I think you deserve to live. It's the most fitting punishment I can think of."

"What?" _That_ took him by surprise. Life, a punishment?

But it kind of made sense, didn't it? After making Seto live with so much pain and so many terrible memories, didn't Yutou deserve to have to live with his? Yeah, maybe she was right–he _should_ have to deal with the nightmares and the panic attacks and the waking up at three in the morning crying for no reason. He deserved every moment of anxiety, every fear, and the knowledge that he was always, _always_ going to be alone, because seriously, who could love something like him? Who could even stand to be around him once they knew what he'd done?

"It was Seto, wasn't it? You're Yutou? The one they were talking about on the news?"

His heart dropped into his stomach and he flinched. "Yes."

She slapped him, hard, and he cringed, trying to burrow back into his pillows as self-defense. No, no this wasn't right! Women were nice, soft, kind...his mother...oh God, how had she survived what he put her through...? Women were so fragile, his mother had been so fragile, she'd needed him to protect her, but he'd been so small...and then she'd left him, left him because he couldn't take care of her...he didn't want a woman angry at him!

"I'm sorry!" he burst out, and she stopped, because he obviously was. Tears poured down his face, he grabbed desperately at her sleeve, barely managing to catch the edge of it in his bound grasp. "I'm so sorry! I didn't want to hurt him, I never meant to!" She tried to pull away but he was adamant in his apologies, holding on for all he was worth. In the chair behind her, Varon jerked awake.

"Nice of you to join us," Mai snapped.

"What's wrong with him?"

"This," she said with a pointed glance at her boyfriend, "is _Yutou_."

Varon blinked a few times, uncomprehending, and then somewhere in his sleepy mind the neurons connected and he did a double take. "Shit! _That_ Yutou? The one that ra–" Mai clapped a hand over Varon's mouth.

"Yes. That Yutou."

Varon examined the pitiful creature in the bed again. "Shit," was all he could think to say.

ooooooOOOOOOOooooo

"Can you give us a few minutes alone?"

Ths door clicked and Seto half-turned to face Jonouchi. "I'm sorry to put you through all of this." His pale hand reached hesitantly for Jou's and he squeezed it gently. "I wouldn't blame you if you left, you know. This is like a bad soap opera."

"Except worse, 'cause it's your life." Jou squeezed back and slid soft fingers under Seto's chin, forcing him to turn around and meet those amber eyes. "I'm not going to leave you." His voice broke and Seto was startled to see the tears streaking Jou's cheeks, because he was still smiling, that sad, understanding smile he'd been wearing so often around him. The next second Jou was in his arms, clinging to his neck and kissing every bit of exposed skin. "I was so worried about you, koi..."

"Sorry," Seto said automatically.

"Stop doin' that. I don't want you t' apologize for nothin'. I love you, that's all. I love you so freakin' much, I was worried I'd never get to see you again."

"He didn't hurt you, did he?" Typical Seto–just snapped out of a self-induced coma, and he was concerned for Jonouchi. They'd filled him in, of course, and he hadn't gasped in horror, even made any indication that he'd heard what had been said, but Jou had seen the tightening of his jaw, the furious glint of icy steel in his eyes and known that this was something else to keep Seto up late at night, something else for him to blame himself for. "Tell me he didn't...rape you."

The last two words were whispered, shameful, as if saying them too loud might make them come true. Jou shook his head quickly and a relief washed over Seto's face. "Thank God," he whispered, burying his face in Jou's hair, inhaling the sweet, soapy smell of the blonde's shampoo. "Thank God."

"Seth saved me."

"Did he? I'll have to thank him." Again, calm and controlled, but Jou could read between the lines and he knew Seto well enough to understand what he was really saying–_I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you._ Jou merely sighed and leaned his head into Seto's chest. He wasn't sure how long they sat there like that, in complete silence, just holding each other. It wasn't an awkward silence by any means; it was filled with relief, a quiet joy that, at least for the time being, they were both alive and okay and _together_, that was the most important part. They were together.

"Are you sure you wanna do this?"

"I can't just leave him there." Seto heaved a sigh. "I mean...you were right. What you told Mokuba? You were right. He's just as messed up as I am. I think...I think maybe he needs help as much as I do. Did," he corrected a second later.

"Did?"

Seto smiled and touched his nose to Jou's. Jou couldn't help smiling back–it was so rare that Seto's icy facade dropped, and he treasured each real expression the brunette allowed him to see. It made him all warm and fuzzy inside, like he was the only one, the only one Seto trusted enough to let close, and he liked that feeling. Okay, yeah, so he was a little possessive. And a little needy. But who wasn't?

"I've got you now," Seto said gently. "That's all I need."

Jou was either about to burst into tears or blush to death, he wasn't sure which. Since when was Seto so...so _nice_? He had to admit, he didn't mind hearing it. Seto wasn't one for flowery declarations. Sometimes Jou wondered if the man had a romantic bone in his body, but this...God, it was so _sweet_.

"I think I can help him."

"Yeah?" Jou's brow furrowed for a moment. "How?"

"I'm going to get him help, first of all. He'll probably have to spend some time in an institute, just to be sure he doesn't try to kill himself again. But maybe, maybe after that...well, he needs a family, right?" His arms tightened around Jou's waist. "How would you feel about that?"

Jou wasn't sure. The man that raped his koi, his love, his lover, living under the same roof? Half of him hated the idea, would have broken Yutou's neck before he so much as took a step into this house, but the other half...it understood. It wouldn't be fair to leave Yutou all alone like that, with his demons and nightmares just because they were happy now. If Seto could forgive him, then so could Jou.

And he had to admit, it made him cringe, imagining Yutou as a child, a young, scared teenager, selling himself on streetcorners and...well, he wasn't entirely sure what had happened to Yutou, but he was willing to bet it wasn't a coincidence that he murdered his father. And if it _was_ his father abusing him...well, it would have gone on his whole life, wouldn't it? From the time he was a little child, he wouldn't have any memories of a normal family.

That was...so...so _sad_. Even Seto had vague memories of his mother–he was fairly sure her name was Natsuko–and even though Jou's mother had walked out on him, he could remember the happier times, before the divorce, when his family would sit around after dinner and watch a movie, or play a board game. To not have any of that...what must it have been like? To come home to terror every day of his life, to be so desperately alone that he couldn't even trust the people who gave him life...Jou couldn't imagine it.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think I could live with that."

Seto smiled. "Could you?"

Jou nodded.

"Good." Seto bent his head and kissed Jou softly.

oooooOOOOOoooooo

"You know," Ryou said, breaking the silence. They were in Seto's living room, waiting for Seto and Jou to finish up...whatever they were doing upstairs. Everyone was so tired that Bakura hadn't even been able to make crude joke about that, merely flopped down on the couch and promptly dozed off again. Now his ice-blue eyes fluttered open, focusing on his hikari. "There's something I've been wondering," Ryou continued, flushing slightly when he realized that everyone was staring at him.

"What?" Bakura's voice was heavy, his tongue thick with sleep, and he yawned.

"Well, I'm assuming that Yutou had to have a private therapist–it's what the court ordered, after all."

"Yeah," Malik blinked sleepily at the white-haired hikari, completely oblivious as to where the conversation was heading.

"And he did live here, right? I mean, he's Seto's adopted brother."

"Yeah?" Yami, this time, and usually he was so quick to pick up on everything. Ryou clenched his fists and told himself that they were just tired.

"I was just thinking...what if his therapist's still here?"

_That_ got their attention. Eyes snapped open, heads swivelled around to look at one another, jaws dropped.

"You don't mean..."

"You don't think–"

"Well, maybe–"

"_Aizawa-san?"_


End file.
